Jedi Posse 2
by Alex Carter
Summary: Set 299 years before Phantom Menace. The Posse has mostly rid Syllian of the Vespecio Crime Family. Now each member has been assigned to a separate sector of the Outer Rim to continue the fight. If Part 1 was Star Wars meets Tombstone, then this is Star Wars meets The Sopranos.
1. Chapter 1: Divide and Conquer

**Divide and Conquer**

"The boss said to stay here," Linku protested as Draymon lowered himself over the ledge of the roof.

"He's not 'the boss'," Draymon corrected as he began to lower himself down the side of the building. "Now, c'mon!"

Reluctantly, Linku followed his partner down the cable, "Neither's Tristan, but we call him 'boss'. Granger's his lieutenant and we work for….."

"I don't work for nobody, especially no Jedi," Draymon snapped.

Linku nearly guffawed, "You don't work for nobody, huh? Vespuccio and Tristan may beg to differ….."

"Everybody works for them. I just mean that Jedi ain't one of us and never will be," Draymon clarified.

"He ain't no Jedi no more," Linku countered.

Draymon was clearly irritated, "Hush, or you'll tell the whole complex we're here."

The pair repelled the rest of the building in absolute silence, but their stealth was of little avail. They had barely taken two steps after hitting the ground when the facility's alarm nearly deafened them. Within seconds, they were surrounded by heavily armed security forces. "Shoot to kill," the captain ordered.

"Whoa! Whoa! Wait!" the thugs protested in panic as they dove for the ground and vainly covered their faces. Linku heard a strange hiss just before the blaster fire began. He expected each blast to be the last sound he would ever hear and yet they kept coming. When he was finally brave enough to remove his hands from his face, he saw a silhouette bathed in green light. The green beam moved faster than Linku's eyes could track. The beam seemed to simultaneously absorb and deflect the blaster fire.

When the blaster stopped and the pair were surrounded by fallen security forces, Granger closed his saber and turned to chide the defiant crew members. "You were told to wait."

Draymon gave a nervous glance at Linku. "Sorry boss….."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"So how are you finding it here, now?" Tristan poured his most competent lieutenant a drink as the others filed out from the office.

Granger could not help, but notice their jealous stares. Reluctantly, he seemed to be the only one that Tristan had an interest in. He had not even been with the Family a year and already was running a subcrew of his own. "Well, you seem to be the only one who trusts me."

Tristan huffed, "The more they see you in action, the more you will win them over. They're beginning to come around, even if you don't see it." Tristan paused for a thought. "Of course, if you struck a little fear into them, they would come around much faster….."

Granger obviously became uncomfortable at the mention of fear. "Fear is not really my thing…. It's not…."

"The Jedi way?" Tristan completed the sentence. "I get that you find strength in their methods still, but the Jedi put you out. We are your family now. You would do well to try some of our methods."

Granger twisted uncomfortably in his seat. These were the times his assignment bothered him. He knew his mission and believed in the overall good of it, but he had to sell himself to Tristan to be successful. And Tristan was no fool. In the midst of selling himself, he also had grown to like Tristan. That was the problem with this sort of mission. It was easy to get lost in the role. Yet if he did not get lost, at least a little, someone as smart as Tristan would see right through the act. It was this lost part of him that was moved by Tristan's words. The Jedi had betrayed him. He had nowhere to go and this was his family. He would do well to learn their ways. Despite all of that, Granger the Jedi Master still had a mission. "Yeah, maybe you're right?"

Tristan pondered his own words for a minute. "Or maybe you are….. Fear ain't really the right word….. respect…that's the real goal. It's a little more lasting than fear."

"Respect is earned and takes time. Like trust," Granger retorted.

"True. You're still new with your crew. Come down heavy on them in this phase. When you feel you have control, you can lighten up. Show them you're in charge…..that they have to show respect, whether they like it or not," Tristan summed up his position.

"And if that strikes a little fear as well….." Granger tacked on with a grin.

"It happens," Tristan leaned back in his chair with a smile.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 _Granger picked up the debris in the tunnel from the controlled blast along with the other mine workers. Some moved faster than he, some slower. "Just move fast enough not to get noticed," several of the other workers had told him, but being new, it was taking him some time to find his right pace._

" _You, boy!" a shout came from behind him. "This is the third day in a row, I've caught you slackin'! Time to teach you some 'git-up'!"_

 _Before Granger could turn to protest, his young body was grabbed from behind and lifted into the air. Granger struggled, but again not too much. He wanted to protest his treatment, but did not actually want to get away from his captor. At least not yet. The iron-like hands with the stern voice rounded a corner, out of sight of the other workers, then dropped their cargo._

 _Granger sprung up excitedly. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming today, Master."_

 _Master Wagalog grinned at his padawan. "You were working too fast. I had to wait for you to slack off a bit in your pace. How ya holdin' up kid?"_

 _Although the assignment was beginning to wear on Granger, it was not the work that was bothering him. He did not know exactly how to explain what he was feeling to his Master. "It is fine, Master. The work is hard, but nothing I can't handle."_

" _But?" Wagalog probed his apprentice._

" _But… the people….. the other workers…. I see what they see. I do what they do…..feel what they feel."_

" _We are here to investigate the rumored abuses in this mining colony," Wagalog summed up. "That is exactly what you should be experiencing." Since most of the workers were of a younger age, Granger had been assigned the cover of a mine worker. Wagalog was assigned the role of a newly transferred supervisor. Although the Mining Guild had already given the operation a clean bill, this particular colony could not shake accusations of worker abuse. It was a particularly productive mine. It stood to reason that the right people were making a fine profit. The wrong kind of attention could cut in to the influx of credits. A Republic Senate committee asked the Jedi to investigate. "Is there any new information?"_

" _Not really," the young padawan had more to say, but he couldn't find the words._

" _What is it, young one?" Wagalog could sense the conflict with Granger, but needed the padawan to express the issue._

" _It is just….. this is hard work. The miners work themselves nearly to death. They do not get paid much. Their living conditions are terrible. And when they are too broken to work, they receive only the minimum of benefits. It just….. is not right," Granger dropped his eyes at his own words._

" _Perhaps it is not, Wagalog agreed, "but it is not illegal. What you are experiencing my dear padawan is attachment. I do not need to remind you that it is your duty as a Jedi to mind your mission. Getting attached to the workers will only cause distraction."_

" _But how can I become one of them and not be attached to them?" Granger finally expressed the core of his conflict._

" _By completing the mission," Wagalog reassured the younger Jedi. "That will help them more in the long run. Are you sure there is no update?"_

" _No Master," Granger inhaled and attempted to refocus himself. "There are stories of workers disappearing and rumors of illegal operations, but I have encountered nothing concrete."_

" _I have heard the same and come up with the same, but we have only been at this a few days. Perhaps the allegations will turn out to be false, but we must stay vigilant," Wagalog paused and patted his padawan's shoulder. "Back to work then." Granger nodded and started down the mine shaft. "And may the Force be with you." Wagalog called after his distracted padawan._

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

This time there was no denying it, Granger would have to make a choice. His crew had been assigned a hit, out and out. There was no way around it. If Granger did not bring back the head of Kruzel, then at best, his cover would be blown for good. At worst, the entire Vespuccio Family would be calling for his own head. Granger had no qualms with taking a life in self-defense or one like the Magistrate who had been responsible for numerous crimes and lived above or outside the law. However, he knew nothing of this Kruzel. Surely if the low life popped up on Tristan's radar, he had crossed the Family in some way. Chances were the man they were after was some degenerate gangster who had killed or stolen from the wrong person. Most likely, the man had it coming and deserved whatever punishment would be dished out to him, but something in the Force was not sitting right. "What do we know about this guy?" Granger asked no one in particular. Linku and Draymon shrugged. After a few seconds Trinar spoke up, "Does it make a difference? Boss wants him dead."

"Perhaps not," Granger mumbled as they neared the target's home. Nothing in particular suggested that it belonged to anyone other than the typical working-class stiff.

"Perhaps not," Trinar whispered mockingly to Draymon, who silenced his comrade.

Granger inhaled deeply outside of the front door. "Let's get this over with."

With extended hands, Granger ripped the door open through the Force. A middle aged professionally dressed man came charging into the room from what Granger assumed was the kitchen. Granger knocked the man across the room with a Force Push. "Are you Kruzel?"

"What do you want?" the stranger asked with a pleading tone.

Granger intensified his stare so that his target was pinned to the wall and began to grasp for air. "Are you Kruzel?" The henchmen from the back of the house entered from the kitchen with what Granger assumed was the man's wife and three children. His heart sank as they began to plead for their father's life. "Maybe they will answer my questions."

"Yes," Kruzel gasped. "Please don't hurt them."

Granger released his Force choke. "Why does my boss want you dead?"

The family gasped in horror as Kruzel gasped for air. "You've got the wrong guy….. I'm a teacher… I've never bothered anybody."

Granger glanced around at his crew. They seemed unmoved. "Vesspucio…Tristan… ring any bells?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I've never even heard of those people!" Kruzel insisted.

"That's what they all say," Granger mumbled, but unlike his henchmen, he could sense that Kruzel was telling the truth. The Jedi looked over at the terrified family. "OK, let's take him to Tristan and straighten this out."

"That ain't the job, Jedi," Trinar spoke up pulling his blaster. "After I finish him, I'm finishing you too."

Before Granger could speak, Draymon stepped between Trinar's blaster and Kruzel. "The boss said, we take him to Tristan."

"He ain't no boss," Trinar sniffed. "And if you get in my way, you can die with him." Trinar raised his blaster and began to squeeze the trigger.

A slash of green light severed Trinar's forearm with the blaster before he could complete the squeeze. "I said, 'no'," Granger reemphasized then plunged his lightsaber into Trinar's torso. He closed the blade to let the body drop. "Pick him up," Granger ordered then motioned at Kruzel. "Bring him too. We're going to see Tristan. Anybody else have a problem with that?"

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 _Jared worked in the mines since he had been old enough. He was now middle aged. Not only was the hard work catching up with his body, but today he was nursing an injury. Jared had taken Granger under his wing as he had done with most of the rookies for decades. Everyone noticed their struggling mentor, but through the Force, Granger was especially attune to the older man's struggle. Granger stayed close to him in an attempt to cover his lagging collection rate, but he was also beginning to tire and it was just barely mid-morning._

" _You! Old man!" one of the supervisors yelled from down the shaft. "I've been watchin' you for the last hour. This boy's been doing most of your work! We pay you to work, not get carried by the kids! Get a move on!"_

 _Jared did not even turn to face his tormentor. He went for a particularly large boulder, but promptly dropped it as his back gave out. He and the rock hit the ground hard._

" _That's it!" the supervisor came charging towards the crew of workers. "I'm gonna teach you a lesson."_

 _The supervisor greeted Jared's ribs with a kick, knocking the older man back to the ground just as he was almost to his feet. The supervisor grabbed Jared's collar and started to drag him deeper into the dark shaft._

" _Leave him alone!" Granger challenged with a physical and Force Push, sending the bully into the rock wall._

 _Jared rolled towards the other members of the crew who shewed him away from his assailant as his full attention became focused on the young upstart. "You're new here, right? I guess you're the one who needs the lesson."_

 _Granger felt another hand grab his collar from behind. "Problems with this one?" Wagalog inquired. "I've had my eye on him all week."_

" _He needs to learn his place," the supervisor stopped in his tracks not daring to challenge a peer._

" _He's my responsibility. I'll deal with him, but good," the Jedi Master seemed sincerely agitated._

" _See that you do," seeking a new target the supervisor spun to face the spectating crew. "Everybody back to work! Now!"_

 _When Wagalog had Granger out of sight and earshot, he released the padawan. "What was that?"_

 _Granger dropped his head. "I just couldn't stand by and watch it happen."_

" _Perhaps not," Wagalog conceded. "But these workers will benefit more when we accomplish our actual mission than you saving one person from a beating."_

 _Granger wanted to protest, but he also saw the wisdom in the senior's words. "I know, Master."_

 _We are just beginning to earn some trust and learn some real information about this place. Do not lose the war, just to win one battle… even if it seems like an important one."_

" _I know, Master. I'm sorry," Granger hung his head even lower._

 _Wagalog gave his padawan a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Your heart was in the right place. That is most important. This is a tough assignment. Hang in there. We will be done soon enough."_

 _ **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

It was more than a little unusual for an entire crew to come barging into Tristan's office. The few startled faces that sat around the Underboss's desk jumped to their feet when the odd assortment entered dragging an impaled body. "We need to talk," Granger spoke directly to Tristan who was the only man in the room still in his seat.

"So I see," Tristan pushed back the brim of his hat. "What's the problem?"

"Is this the, Kruzel, you sent us after?" Granger inquired not quite sure what he intended to accomplish.

"That's him," Tristan eyed the now urine soaked teacher then shifted his gaze to Trinar's body. "And ain't he one of yours?"

"He needed to be taught some manners," Granger almost grinned, but quickly refocused on the business at hand. He glanced at Kruzel. "Explain yourself."

Kruzel was still at a loss, "I don't know what you want with me. I don't know any of you."

Tristan sighed, "Do you remember placing a bet with a man named, Krieg?"

If Kruzel had not been staring death in the face, he would have laughed. "That was years ago. I heard he was dead."

Tristan now leaned forward in his seat. "Which means your debt to him is now your debt to me. Did you think there was an expiration date?"

Kruzel glanced around at his captors in desperation. "No, I just… it was so long ago… I had never gambled before….. didn't even know what I was doing…" He straightened himself and mustered all the sincerity he could find. "I did not even know who to contact. I'm sure we can work this out….."

"Some of his associates attempted to contact you several times. Your information was false. You knew what you were doing." Tristan was undeterred.

"It was so long ago….." Kruzel repeated. "I was desperate… didn't even know what I was doing… It was only a few credits….."

"We are men of principle," Tristan chuckled. "The amount is irrelevant." The seasoned gangster then produced a blaster from beneath the desk, emptying one shot into the captor.

"No!" Granger screamed, instinctively putting his hand on his lightsaber, but pausing before pulling it.

Using the same instinct the collected gangsters drew their blasters. Most pointed theirs at Granger, but certain members of his crew pointed theirs at the others. A single whiff of smoke rose from Tristan's blaster that was still trained on Kruzel's body. "This could get ugly." He eyed the Jedi and pushed back the hat brim with the barrel. The Underboss glanced around at the faces. Granger dropped his hand from his saber and back to his side. "All of you put those things away," Tristan ordered holstering his own blaster. "And all of you get yourselves and those bodies out of here. Except you." His gaze turned back to Granger. "And if anybody has a problem with any of this, come see me later."

Tristan motioned for Granger to sit in the seat in front of his desk once the mess was cleaned and the crowd had dispersed. "Now just what in the hell do you think you were doing barging in like that?"

Granger started to speak several times, but stopped. Finally, he managed, "It just did not feel right."

"Feel?" Tristan repeated. "What the Force again?" Tristan paused, but when Granger offered no response, he continued. "Nobody barges in here like that and lives. Nobody puts their hand to a weapon in front of me and lives. Nobody, you hear?"

Those words would have sent Granger's hand back to his lightsaber, but he sensed no threat in them. "I know, boss." Granger considered killing Tristan right then and there. He was not Vesspuccio. The Family would continue to function, but it would be severely crippled and he could return to the Jedi Order with some sense of accomplishment. Yet, if he maintained his composure, he could go even deeper. This was the crucial moment in his mission. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry, huh? Well one thing's for sure. You just bought yourself a helluva reputation." Now Tristan did allow a grin. "A stern man with a code is an uncompromising man. People know where they stand with a man like that and they know not to cross him."

"Sounds a lot like you," Granger did not return the grin, but lightened his tone.

"Exactly," Tristan concurred. "Some of your crew had your back even in here. I told you they would come around… but maybe leading a crew like that is not the best job for you."

"Oh?" Granger raised an eyebrow.

Tristan now smiled broadly, "Yeah, I think I have a much better position for a man of your demeanor."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 _After the day was over, Jared reported to the infirmary. His injuries and overall condition were too much for the doctors to approve a return to work. He would be given the low severance package and sent on his way with not even a "thank you" for his decades of labor in the mine. Granger and the younger workers gathered around to watch their mentor collect his belongings from his bunk as an escort of supervisors stood watch to keep him away from the others. The older man was not even allowed time to say good bye._

 _After lights out, Granger tossed and turned in his bunk. He thought of Jared and the other workers. He thought of the supervisors, one in particular. He would get no sleep that night._

 _The next morning, Granger pushed a cart of rocks right passed the supervisor who had abused Jared the day before. The man nodded a greeting as if nothing had happened not even recognizing Granger from the previous day. This infuriated the padawan even farther. He pushed the cart to a growing pile of rocks and dumped its contents. Granger paused for just a moment to wipe the sweat from his head after dumping the rocks. He saw the supervisor just a few meters away, studying some schematics. Above the supervisor on a platform was a bundle of equipment. The bundle would only need to slide an inch or two to fall on the hapless supervisor. Or perhaps the platform was not as sturdy as it looked and the whole thing could come tumbling down on top of him. The platform began to shake slightly as Granger stared at it, but before he allowed full vent to his anger, he closed his eyes and took a cleansing breath. That was the Darkside and he would not allow this man to be the one to push him into it. Besides, there would be an investigation even into an accident. If there were any illegal activities happening in the mine, they would cease while the inspectors were sniffing around. That would only further delay whatever justice the workers had coming their way. "And prolong this damn mission," Granger concluded._

" _Hey kid!" the supervisor noticed Granger for the first time. "Why are you just staring off into space? It ain't break time! Get back to work!"_

" _Yes sir," Granger mumbled as he pushed the empty cart back down into the shaft._

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Back on Syllian, Iesha could sense her Master's uneasiness even through the holo-projector and across the millions of miles of the void of space. "Everyone has been making their scheduled check-ins Master. Syllian remains relatively peaceful and each member of the team appears to be making progress in their respective missions."

"Excellent. And you have been keeping your scheduled check-ins with Numa?" Granger inquired.

This time it was Iesha who became uneasy. "Of course, Master." The padawan was not lying, she just hated the idea of someone pretending to be her Master while Granger was on such a dangerous mission.

"It is important, Iesha, that we keep up appearances," Granger reminded her.

"I know Master, it's just….. one more thing to do in a sometimes very unexciting schedule."

"Unexciting is good," Granger corrected. "Your skills are nearly complete. You have been given more responsibility than most padawans are allowed to take, but no matter how advanced we become, we can all benefit from some additional guidance."

"Even you Master?" Iesha posed not really expecting an answer.

"Even me….." Granger muttered.

Iesha sensed the growing uneasiness. "You are troubled Master. What is it?"

The blue image twitched as Granger let out a long breath. "Off the record, my trusted padawan?"

"Of course, Master."

"I must confess that I feel a little…lost…." Granger struggled to get the words out.

"Lost?" Iesha was surprised at her Master's frankness.

"It is difficult to follow the Jedi way while surrounded by non-Jedi and pretending to no longer be one. I never realized how important the ongoing fellowship and guidance of the Jedi Order is. I find myself needing to perform tasks to complete this mission that…. Verge on actions that could lead to emotions that could lead to…."

"The Dark Side?" Iesha completed the thought.

Granger pondered silently, then added, "Yes."

"You have told me many times, Master, that we all struggle with this."

"But in the comfort and company of our fellow Jedi," Granger added.

"Master….." Iesha was not quite sure how to phrase her question. "It has long been taught that fear leads to the Dark Side, yes?"

"Right."

"But what if it is the Dark Side that you fear? Where does that take us?"

Granger could not help, but grin. "You will be a very wise knight very soon." She saw his image look to the side. "We have talked long enough. Even secure channels can be traced. I will check in next time. Granger out."

Iesha watched the image fade. She slowly closed her eyes attempting to reach across the stars through the Force. "May the Force be with you, Master."


	2. Chapter 2: Divide and Conquer Part 2

**Divide and Conquer Part 2**

Bellosh rubbed his hands together excitedly as he waited for his customer. All he knew was that he was waiting for a woman, a particularly wealthy one with an interest ancient Jedi relics. He was happy to oblige, but wished she could have met him in a more hospitable system. This remote desert moon orbiting a remote planet barely even qualified as the outer rim. No one came out here except people who did not want to be found.

The door of the cantina burst open, interrupting Bollosh's thoughts, but did not even stir the other two customers or the bar tenders. A cloaked figure entered followed by a cloud of dust blown in by the rising storm outside. The new arrival quickly closed the door, but the howling wind still echoed from outside. The cloaked stranger slowly approached the corner table, taking in the surroundings. "You Bellosh?" a female voice asked as the stranger sat.

Her faced was mostly covered, but the Bellosh could tell she was Nautolan. "Yes, my friend," the Weequay tried to hide his excitement. "How may I be of service to you?"

"I thought you already understood what I was looking for?" the hood barely lifted as the stranger spoke.

"Of course, my dear. Just making small talk," Bellosh laid a wadded piece of cloth on the table. "I believe this is what you came to see?"

Green hands reached from beneath the cloak to unwrap the cloth to reveal one clear crystal. After a brief examination, one of the green hands tossed the crystal back on the table. "What is this?"

Bellosh feigned offense, "What do you mean? It's a Kyber crystal, as you requested."

"That's not Kyber," the stranger removed her hood to fully reveal her Nautolan features and so that her attempted con man could look deeply into her eyes.

"What? Of course it is! How would you know?"

Numa reached again into her cloak. This time she came out with her lightsaber and set it on the table.

Bellosh did not fully understand the threat or its meaning and rather excitedly picked up the saber. His excitement soon soured. "So what? You find one lightsaber and are suddenly an expert on Kyber crystals? I have seen thousands of these. This one is not even that old…" Suddenly, Bellosh began to piece together what was happening. "Where did you get this one?"

"I made it when I was a youngling," Numa stately slowly to let the implication sink in.

Bellosh gently laid the saber back on the table. "Isn't that nice. What color beam does it make?"

"If you don't cooperate, you will surely find out," the Jedi's firm voice left no room for interpretation.

Bellosh was desperate to talk his way out of this. "We are far from the Republic here. What do you want from me Jedi?"

"You deal in fake and stolen artifacts. Particularly, Jedi and pre-Republic artifacts. This will cease immediately."

"What?" Again, the Weequay tried to sound offended. "I have never faked anything in my life. I stand by my reputation. And stolen? Well, let's just say, I've never broken any Republic laws… because I never enter Republic space. So I must ask again. What business do the Jedi have with my business?"

Numa grinned as she thumped the fake crystal across the table. "Jedi relics or object purporting to be, are our business. Let's just say, you caught our attention."

Bellosh swallowed hard. "Well, let me spread some good will. How may I be of service to the Jedi who I have such high respect for?"

Numa leaned across the table, "Tell me what I want to know."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Iesha tried to wait patiently for her daily transmission to connect. This had become the bulk of her mission now. She had to collect regular reports from each member of the team (including Numa and Granger). She had to prepare a regular update on Syllian. She then had to transmit a summary of all the team reports to Numa as the acting team leader, to Granger as the actual team leader (and still her master). She also had to present a summary to the Jedi Council, a separate report on Granger's activities to Voudon (who like her master she had learned not to like), and finally, since Numa was technically supervising her training, they had to have another briefing at least once a week.

Meetings, reports, briefings, and transmissions had now become the padawan's life. It was not the life that she had envisioned as a youngling on Coruscant and it was not the one that she now wanted. She knew that she was not supposed to want the more exciting life, but she could not help herself. No matter how much they preached patience, no Jedi signed up to work with data…. Except maybe Finly.

Finally, Numa's blue image appeared before the waiting padawan. "Greetings Iesha. How are you?"

Without thinking about the purpose of the transmission, Iesha began to rattle off the usual status report. "The status on Syllian is normal. Myriam reports…"

"I got the situation report yesterday," Numa interrupted. "I was asking about you."

"Oh yeah," Iesha did not really see much difference. "Sorry, one report feels like another after a while."

"I sense you are bored and even frustrated with this assignment. Be patient padawan. This is a very important role that you have," Numa warned.

"I know…..and I am," Iesha took a deep breath. "So you know about the reports. I have a weekly briefing with a representative from the Prime Minister's office…"

"A representative?" Numa cut it again. "Not the Prime Minister herself?"

"No," Iesha sighed, "I guess I'm not as important as you or Master Granger….." Iesha almost always still referred to Granger as "Master". She hoped that Numa did not read anything into it, yet she hated hiding her knowledge from her senior. "So yeah, reports. I go out on patrol usually three times a day, meditate 3-5 times a day. I have saber practice and control drills at least once a day, study some archive files….."

"Not that it is a bad thing," Numa again interrupted, "but why do you meditate so much?"

The padawan was again merely following Granger's example. It had not been until they were assigned to this team, that she realized just how much more time they spent in meditation than other Jedi…except Myriam…..and probably Yoda. "Master Granger taught that meditation prepared us for our duty. So if I go on patrol three times a day, I should meditate at least that much."

"Very wise," Numa pondered. "There are Masters who are not even that disciplined. You will be a knight very soon."

Iesha smiled lightly, "Is there anything else, then?"

"I'm on my way back to Cepha now," Numa paused. "I have run across an odd dilemma."

"What's that?" Iesha inquired.

"A vast trade in illegal artifacts," Numa answered. "The problem is, it's only illegal in the Republic."

"But Cepha is not in the Republic, "Iesha finished the thought. "Is the money funding other illegal activities?"

"A few of the same names are involved, but so far, I have not been able to find any evidence, at least, not to activities on Syllian or other Republic planets."

"What if they are selling to customers in Republic space?" Iesha offered.

Numa seemed to perk up, "That's brilliant. I will send you some names. See what you can turn up. I'm approaching the planet. I'll see you for my regular report tomorrow. Numa out."

The blue image faded, leaving the frustrated padawan alone again. "Great more research."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Numa spent days tracking various illegal artifact dealers. Most of them were fairly low level. Some did not know who they worked for or even who they were selling to. However, she was finally beginning to make some progress. She had no arrest powers on Cepha, but as a Jedi she felt obligated to find those who may be dealing in stolen or fake artifacts from her chosen way of life. If Iesha can dig up information on Republic territory buyers (and she was quite confident in the padawan's abilities), then Numa would have all the justification that she would need.

The seasoned Jedi strode confidently into yet another cantina. This one was slightly more crowded than most. She paused at what seemed to be a bouncer, although he appeared full of the local drink himself. "Where can I find Alezandra?"

The bouncer wobbled slightly as he pointed to a corner both. Numa followed his direction to an alien woman, whose race the Nautolan could not identify. "Alezandra?"

"Of course," the red-skinned woman responded. "And what may I do for you?"

"I seek artifacts, particularly the pre-republic kind," Numa offered.

"That's a broad category," Alezandra studied her customer through a cloud of Nargilah smoke. "Anything in particular?"

Numa pondered the question, "Maybe show me what you have and I will let you know if anything grabs my attention."

"Not much on me," the dealer ran the usual pitches through her mind. She pulled a pouch from her jacket and dumped some worn coins on the table. When Numa did not show much interest in any of those, Alezandra reached beneath the bench on which she was seated. "Oh, and there's this."

Numa's eyes widened as the dealer set a case on the table and opened it to reveal a spear almost identical to the one that Granger had Force shoved through the Syllian Magistrate just over a year ago. "One of a kind, I guarantee it," Alezandra grinned with satisfaction.

"Is that right?" Numa raised an eyebrow. "Then why is it that I have seen one of these before?"

If Alezandra was flustered at the remark, she did a good job of not showing it. "An authentic spear from Xim the Despot? Well, each one is slightly different…."

Numa huffed, "It would be much more convincing if he actually existed. He is a myth. The stuff of legends."

The unfazed antiques dealer cracked a smile, "Legends are just stories that shroud a deeper truth. You are staring at proof of his existence right before your eyes. But since you insist on doubting…."

Alezandra placed the spear back into its case and began to close it. "Wait!" Numa tried to seem like a customer whose bluff had been called. "Not so fast. Perhaps there is a place in my collection even for legends."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Iesha struggled again to wait patiently as Numa examined the results of the scan of the spear. "So it is a fake then?" Numa raised an eyebrow.

"Absolutely," Iesha confirmed, but added, "Which is illegal in the Republic, but does not violate any of Cepha's local laws."

"Which is why this Alezandra chooses to operate here," Numa confirmed. "She seems to have some ties to the Black Sun organization, but not directly involved in any of their more sinister activities, on this planet or in Republic space."

Both the Jedi pondered the situation. "She's probably a source of income for the organization, can we use that in some way?"

Numa frowned, "Only if we can link the funds to a specific activity."

Iesha nodded, "There is one more thing. Sources indicate that these 'artifacts' are often produced in slave factories."

Numa huffed disgustedly, "Which, unfortunately, is also not quite illegal on Cepha. It seems our best bet is to find her buyers within Republic space."

"I'm working on it," Iesha reassured.

"I know you are, padawan," Numa encouraged the younger. "May the Force be with you."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"So it appears that all orders will be completed and out on time, Ma'am," the supervisor report his boss.

"Very well," Alezandra dismissed the information without breaking stride or looking up from the report on her data pad. Her entourage of bodyguards and lackey's struggled to keep pace with her.

Few things could make Alezandra break her morning habits, but the sight of Numa standing in the middle of the factory floor brought her to a dead halt, followed quickly by her underlings. "What are you doing here?"

Numa calmly pulled back the hem of her robe to reveal her lightsaber. A gesture whose meaning was known throughout the galaxy. "Following a lead," Numa answered calmly. The Jedi reached towards a pile of what appeared to be random parts. However, the pile began to shake, then collapse to the ground, revealing what appeared to be a pile of crystals. One of the crystals flew from the pile to Numa's hand. "I suppose you are claiming that this is Kyber," Numa posed the question already knowing the answer.

"What if I am?" Alezandra shot back. "Nothing illegal here."

"You are right about that," Numa conceded. "I cannot represent the Republic today. However, I always represent the Jedi. Kyber is sacred in our Order and we do not take kindly to counterfeits, especially when they are used to prey on the unsuspecting." Numa paused to glance around the factory, whose workers were beginning to gather around the intense meeting. "And made by slave labor, like with your spears, I assume."

"Also not illegal," Alezandra grinned.

Numa squeezed the crystal in her hand just slightly, shattering it into shards. At this, Alezandra's half-dozen body guards raised their blasters. Numa extended both arms, knocking the guards to the ground with a Force Push. The blasters, however, remained suspended in the air, turned, and formed a semi-circle aimed at Alezandra.

"What are you going to do," the antiques boss still seemed unfazed, "kill me in cold blood?"

"Hardly," Numa muttered. She turned to the nearest worker, tossing him a navigation device, then raised her voice to the gathered crowd. "By the order of the Jedi Council, you are now free. Meet me at these coordinates in one hour and you will be provided transport to Coruscant."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXX**

Jorjela hurriedly entered his remaining data into the computer. He was almost finished for the day and would soon be home. Or so he thought. He heard a commotion outside his office door and before he could rise from his seat, his door slid open. His secretary rushed in just ahead of three imposing figures.

"I'm sorry Mr…" she attempted to offer.

"Mr. Jorjela," Iesha stood between Masters Tarayzin and Voudon. "In the name of the Jedi Council of the Republic, you are under arrest."

Jorjela was completely taken aback. "For what?"

"For the illegal importation of counterfeit artifacts from the Outer Rim into Republic space," the padawan clarified.

"Oh that," Jorleja's demeanor sank. "I can explain."

"And we expect that you will, along with any other information that you have about Alezandra and other criminal activities that you can shed light on," Master Tarayzin added.

"I'll tell you everything," Jorleja insisted as security forces who had entered behind the Jedi began to take him away.

The Jedi perused the office as tech droids scanned and dismantled the computers and datapads strewn around the office.

Voudon milled around in silence as Tarayzin and Iesha supervised the collection. "Excellent work young padawan," Tarayzin congratulated, "But you know, you really did not have to be here."

Iesha grinned, "Numa tasked me with finding the Republic connections. I wanted to see it through. Besides, any excuse to return to Corellia." They both knew the truth, that she just wanted to get off Syllian if even for a day.

"You have not lived here since you were six months old, but fair enough. This is the highest level, deepest reaching arrest so far in connection with the Syllian mission. I and the Council are pleased," Tarayzin further complimented you younger Jedi. "Your patience is paying off."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXX**

Numa had a satisfaction in her stride as she led the local security officers to Alezandra's business office. The antiques dealer seemed to be expecting them as she sat behind her desk. Numa began the usual line. "In the name of the Jedi Council of the Republic….."

"I'm under arrest?" Alezandra rose from her seat revealing a blaster pointed in Numa's direction.

Numa nearly laughed as the security team pulled their own blasters and she rested her hand on her saber. "You do not think a little thing like that can frighten us, do you?"

"Probably not," Alezandra spun the blaster to the window and fired one shot, shattering it.

Numa raised a hand to steady the officers. "That will not get you anywhere….. literally, The Force remember? I will pull you back into the room before you get your second foot out."

"Perhaps," the would-be fugitive mused. "Pull this instead." With that Alezandra produced an activated thermal detonator from her jacket. She dropped it to the floor and it rolled under the desk as she stepped out of the window with a wave.

"Poodoo!" Numa screamed, diving into the hallway, Force Pulling the three officers with her. They all managed to roll out of the doorway just as the explosion incinerated the office and any potential evidence for further investigation. Numa's ears were still ringing and her head was still spinning as she picked herself up from the floor before the smoke even cleared. She glanced at the officers as she reentered what was left of the office. They all seemed to at least be breathing.

The office was in ashes. Numa looked down from the hole where the window once was. The drop was not high enough to kill Alezandra, but if she hit the ground, then she should be writhing in agony below. Numa saw no one, but the normal street crowd gawking up at the smoking side of the building. "Poodoo," was all the frustrated Jedi could utter.


	3. Chapter 3: Divide and Conquer 3

**Divide and Conquer: Part 3**

Tristan thought the cantina could have been anywhere in the galaxy as he entered the door. This was the type of place where he was comfortable. If a man wanted information or to find a particular person, this was where he would go.

The eyes of the experienced gangster searched the corner booths first. He knew the one he sought would have a similar notion. Not that life had made them so similar, just that he could sense something in her that told him they were somehow alike. Within a few seconds their eyes met. Maybe they did sense each other or maybe there really was a thing in the universe called luck. It really did not matter. Tristan found his prize.

"Hello beautiful. Miss me?" Tristan pushed back the brim of his hat as he approached the table.

Myriam barely glanced up as she slammed a fresh shot glass to the table. "Not particularly," the Jedi blew off the greeting. "You are under arrest though."

Tristan grinned as he fell into the seat across from the woman he was beginning to love. "How do you figure?"

"You are wanted for questioning regarding a murder on Syllian and in connection to a number of other crimes," Myriam answered as she reached under the table for her lightsaber. "I do hope you won't come quietly."

Tristan grinned and kept both hands on top of the table, "Oh that."

"Yeah that," Myriam rested her hand on her saber.

"Well," Tristan eyed her from under the brim of his hat, "you could take me in. Or try at least." He searched her eyes for a reaction to his threat and reached out with his feelings. If she was worried she knew how to hide it well, even from herself. "Or we could talk business."

"What business would I have with you?" Myriam was curious, but unwavering.

"It seems we may have problems that….. intersect. An old friend of yours thought that I should reach out to you."

"Granger?" Myriam seemed to stir for the first time in the conversation. "How is Master Granger?"

Tristan was relieved and slightly jealous at Myriam's apparent legitimate concern for the former Jedi. "I'd say he's doing well for himself. No thanks to you Jedi."

"Good to hear. I can't say I fully agree with how the Council treated him," Myriam admitted.

"I thought you Jedi had to toe the line? You sure you should be disagreeing with your superiors so publicly?" Tristan grinned again.

Myriam downed another shot. "There are many who would say that I am not the typical Jedi."

"That's why I love ya," Tristan pushed back his brim and grinned wide this time.

Myriam studied her adversary carefully. There was something about him. He was far from a Jedi or even an honorable man, but somehow she sensed a kinship. Granger must have felt the same thing which was why the two had been able to build such a bond, but also like Granger, Myriam put her duty first. "So what is this business that you speak of? And why does it stop me from hauling you back to Coruscant in restraints?"

Before the gangster could answer, a waiter approached with a bottle of something that Myriam did not recognize and another glass. "There will be time for that later. Let's drink first."

Several hours and two and half bottles of the strange brew had passed. Myriam laughed aloud as Tristan finished another story about his and Vespecio's days growing up on the streets of Markuria. Myriam reached for the bottle again, but knocked over her glass. The pair paused in a stare then burst out in giggles. The Jedi finally managed to get her hands on the bottle. She picked it up to examine the strange writing on the label. "What is this stuff?"

"It's from Markuria. I grew up on this stuff," Tristan answered with a fresh laugh. "Guess good stuff from the Outer Rim is hard to come by in the Jedi Temple, huh?"

Myriam took a deep breath, drawing in the Force to collect her senses. "I grew up in the Outer Rim. I thought I knew all the good stuff."

"Grew up out here? Another reason you're so likeable then."

Myriam leaned back into the cushion of the booth, relaxed, but herself again. "We should get to this business you were talking about."

Tristan sighed, disappointed that the fun was over, but also not forgetting that business came first. "You have been pretty rough on our people since you got here."

"Just doing my job."'

"But we're not even the big game here. The Suns run this planet.

Myriam nodded, "They see plenty of me too."

"And the Hutts?" Tristan raised an eyebrow.

"Word on the street is, they are making some moves, but don't have their fingers too deep just yet." Myriam paused. "Why are you worried about them? It seems the Black Sun has out for your people too."

"That's what Jabba wants us all to think," Tristan explained.

"Ah," Myriam understood.

"The Suns don't see that they are being played so Ocir has to step to them"

"Because even worse than being played is looking weak," Myriam nodded again.

Tristan grinned again at her insight. "So what I propose is this, I feed you intel on the Hutts and you make them a priority."

"Sounds like I'd be doing all the favors," Myriam sat up with a sudden seriousness. "Why would I do that?"

"When you hear something about the Suns, you send me the info. We'll take care of them. That way, your job is still getting done."

"And you gain ground. You seem to come out on top in the end. I'm not hired muscle," Myriam grew very serious again.

"We can lay off some of our more…..despicable activities in the meantime. And you'll have me owing you a favor." Tristan tried to emphasize his sincerity.

Myriam pondered the proposal. "You say this was Granger's idea?"

Tristan mused. "We came up with it together."

Myriam carefully rose from her seat. "I'll sleep on it tonight. Meet me back here tomorrow."

"Two dates two nights in a row? I'm flattered," Tristan tried to lighten the mood again as she passed, but she did not slow. He hurriedly threw down more than enough credits to cover the drinks and followed her out of the cantina. "Let me walk you to your place at least."

"That won't be necessary," Myriam paused and turned to face him.

Maybe the liquor had worked better than the gangster had hoped. He sensed something more behind her hesitation. They stared deeply into the other's eyes "Well then….." Tristan leaned in for a kiss.

Myriam raised a hand, but instead of being pushed back, Tristan felt an invisible grip around his neck. "That won't be necessary either," the Jedi clarified.

Tristan tried not to grimace as he used his own Force powers to loosen the grip and steady his voice so that he could speak unencumbered. "I know that trick. It won't work on me."

"If you say so," Myriam dropped her hand. "I'll see you tomorrow."

 **XXXXXXXXX**

When the Jedi Council divided the team and dispersed them throughout the Outer Rim, the idea was to put the outlaws on the defensive. Iesha stayed on Syllian to keep tabs on activities there and to coordinate amongst the other members of the team. Numa was sent to an area of heavy illegal trafficking of all types which involved nearly every major criminal organization in the galaxy with ties inside Republic space. Hannibal landed on a planet dominated by the Hutts, but with plenty of activities from other organizations. Hector went to a system mostly controlled by the Black Sun and Finly ended up on a planet so far out that it is mainly known for the criminals who need to go on the run.

Draxil, the planet on which Myriam was assigned, was arguably the most dangerous. It was known as Black Sun territory, but the Hutts and the Vespecio Family had interests here. Occasionally, they clashed. All of these assignments were an extension of their overall mission to keep Syllian free of control by Vespecio. The only planet noticeably excluded from the new list of assigned places was Markuria, the homeworld of the Vespecio Family. Very few people knew why no one had been assigned there. Myriam was one of those few.

Iesha's blue image flickered slightly. Myriam's report was always was of the longest, but the padawan did not mind. Except for Granger, there was no one else that Iesha would rather hear talk. "Is there anything else?"

Myriam paused awkwardly, a rarity for the normally unshakable knight. "Well, I'm not sure… Tristan is here."

"Oh?" Iesha raised an eyebrow.

"He has an interesting proposition. Says it was Granger's idea.

"Master Granger?" Iesha perked up.

"When did you last speak with him?" Myriam inquired.

Iesha was thrown off guard by the question. "What do you mean? Same as you…"

Myriam frowned slightly, "C'mon kid. Do you really think I wouldn't figure out what's going on?" That was not a fair statement. Although she suspected, Myriam had not figured out anything. Not long after Granger's "expulsion" from the Jedi Order. Master Yoda contacted Myriam with the truth. He did not like the deception any more than Granger, but went along with the Council's wishes. Yoda felt that Granger may need a backdoor of communication, a way to reach out in case everything fell apart. So her former master entrusted Myriam with the code to a channel to contact Granger in case it was needed. She had not used it yet and was not sure if the "rogue" knew that she had it. For the sake of the mission, she did not want to use it if she did not have to.

"I'm…uh….. not sure what you mean…" Iesha continued to deny. "What's the proposition?"

"Fine," Myriam conceded. "Apparently, the Hutts are prodding the Vespecio's into some sort of fight with the Black Sun. Tristan knows this, but can't back down from the fight. So he will hit the Suns as surgically as possible while I throw most of my attention to the Hutts."

"But," Iesha hesitated to disagree with the more experienced knight. "Doesn't that help the Vespecio's on Draxil?"

"Maybe, but their presence is negligible compared to the other two organizations. And it is always a good idea to keep your enemy close…"

"Ah," Iesha grinned. "You intend to keep Tristan close….."

Myriam's face soured. "Not like that…. Hannibal….."

"Hey, that's low," Iesha tried not to laugh. "He is wanted for questioning in almost every crime that we are aware of here, but if you are sure."

"I'm not sure," Myriam sighed. "I'm just going with my gut. So if you run this by Granger, then it should be ok to report this to the Council, but I would leave it out of your report to Numa."

Iesha understood what Myriam was telling her, but not sure if she should confirm it. "So you are making the deal?"

"Yes. Myriam out."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The deal should have made Myriam's work load lighter but she was never one to pawn her duty off on someone else. She raced along the low rooftops silently observing Tristan and his party as they went out on their hunt. There were some local spice dealers with ties to the Black Sun who had become a little too violent for Myriam's taste. Although they were not violating any Republic laws, Myriam frequently partnered with local law enforcement. They usually offered her plenty of room to work. The deal was that Tristan would track the band to an out of the way location and dispose of them where there would be no bystanders to get caught in any cross-fire. Myriam was supposed to be hunting down some members of the Hutt organization that were trafficking women through the territory. As much as Myriam relished the idea of hunting down traffickers, she had to make sure that Tristan held up his end of the bargain. Something told her that he could be trusted, but her duty required her to be sure.

The local spice dealer went by the name Avon. Tristan never heard of him, but that meant nothing. Even a major player on one part of a planet was a drop in the bucket in the rest of the galaxy. Tristan harbored a special hatred for spice dealers. He had seen the drug ruin the lives of many good people. He almost felt like a righteous man tonight. He and his crew approached an alley. Two guards stood in front of a door that did not appear to lead to anything special.

"I'm here to see Avon," Tristan pushed back the brim of his hat.

"Who are you?" one guard asked, already knowing the answer. Every criminal in the galaxy knew Tristan and his hat.

"I'm me," Tristan grinned. The guards reached for their weapons. Tristan raised a hand and with a Force Push slammed the sizable men into the door.

A hatch at the top of the door slid open. "What's going on out there?"

Tristan raised his hand again. This time he heard the spurting, choking sounds from the guard behind the door as one of his men set charges. They moved to the side just as the door was blown off its hinges. The explosives expert rolled three thermal detonators down the hall. The entire building was rocked with a massive explosion. Tristan and his men calmly entered the smoke filled room with blasters drawn. The few of Avon's men still standing fired blindly into the smoke. Tristan deflected most of the blasts back into its shooter. Tristan's crew returned the fire to those who did not fall.

Soon they reached an office at the end of the hall. "Avon, you still in there?" There was no answer, but they could hear voices from inside the office. "Very well," Tristan turned to his men. "If anyone, but me walks out of there, light em up."

Before any of them could ask what he meant, Tristan charged the door. He ducked into a roll just as blaster fire lit up the doorway. Tristan blasted the first three men he saw, then Force Pushed three others into the back corner. He jumped to his feet in time to Force Push Avon's remaining two body guards into each other before blasting them as well. "Avon?" Tristan turned his blaster on the man sitting behind the desk as he raised his hands.

"I think we can reach an understanding," Avon tried to reason with his assailant.

Tristan blasted his target between the eyes. "Not tonight."

Tristan stepped back into the alley as his men grabbed money, weapons, and anything that looked like it may contain valuable information. They were under orders not to touch any spice, but of course some of them would. In the alley, Tristan knew he was being watched. He glanced up to the ledge of a rooftop. He could barely make out the shadow, but he sensed her watching him. He tipped his hat with a fresh grin as Myriam's shadow disappeared.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

From her perch on a ledge about half-way up the building, Myriam watched as some of the local Hutt henchmen unloaded their cargo. Armed guards surrounded the platform as the crowd of passengers made their way down the ramp of the ship. The group was comprised of mostly young women, even a few children, all slaves. Myriam drew in a deep breath before dropping form her high perch. She hit the platform in near silence. Her lightsaber sprang to life. She easily eliminated the three closest guards before the others fully recognized the threat. The helpless passengers dove for the floor as a barrage of blaster bolts engulfed the slaves' liberator. Myriam drew in another deep breath and fell into the Force, more to clear her mind of her underlying anger than to guide the movements of her saber. Her lightsaber moved with a fury that even she had not seen before. Soon all of the guards were dead, fallen either by deflected blaster bolts or the blue blade of her saber.

Myriam paused, her saber still at the ready. She motioned at the slaves who raised their heads to stay down as she walked up the plank of the ship. The determined Jedi quickly dispatched the ship's crew and pilots as well. She felt no mercy for anyone involved in any aspect of slaving.

When the ship was clear, Myriam returned to the platform. The would-be-slaves were stirring around, not quite sure what they should do. "Collect their weapons," Myriam directed. The startled group complied, beginning to awake from their trance. "Have any of you been fitted with trackers?" There was a corporate head shaking in response. "Good. The ship is yours. Can any of you fly?" A few raised their hands. "Take it and go."

The crowd made its way up the ramp, starring admirably and gratefully at their liberator as they passed. One of the pilots paused in front of the Jedi. "Go where?"

"Anywhere in the galaxy that you want," Myriam answered with a smile.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Tristan wearily entered his quarters. It had been a long day, but the Suns were definitely feeling the Family's presence on Draxil. The sound of an incoming message signaled before the exhausted gangster could get comfortable. "Yes?" the slightly annoyed Underboss greeted Ocir's blue image.

"You've really been putting it to the Suns. It's like your name didn't ring out enough already," the boss of Draxil tried to sound light-hearted.

Tristan ignored his instinct to read beneath the joke, "It's not about my name ringing out. The Black Sun needs to know that our Family won't be backed into a corner, by them, the Hutts, the Jedi, anybody."

"Your name? Our name? What's the difference?" Ocir shrugged.

Tristan studied his underling's image. These were odd points for someone with Ocir's experience to be making. "My name's nothing without the Big Man's behind it."

"Does that ever bother you?" Tristan could sense sincerity flooding Ocir's words, replacing his own suspicion.

"Why would it?" Tristan shrugged this time.

"I mean like, I ran Syllian until the Jedi showed. Then you were brought in to do the heavy liftin' and I was moved here. Now here you are again. We work ourselves to the bone, but its Vespecio's name that gets the respect." Ocir seemed to snap out of his musings.

Tristan eyed his underling carefully, "What you are saying sounds like jealousy….. And if I didn't know better, I'd say disloyalty and ingratitude. We all have a role to play. You know how it works."

Ocir grinned reassuringly, "I'm just an old fool, babbling. What do we do next?"

Tristan felt the mood lighten, "I have to go back to Markuria. Keep up the pressure. Make it surgical and decisive. We're taking territory and sending a message."

"You're talking war, here?" We can make some moves, but we don't have the muscle for when the Suns hit back…...and they will hit back," Ocir surmised.

"No doubt," Tristan grinned. "That's why it's important to hit hard here in the beginning, but don't worry, when the time comes, you'll have all the support you need."

Ocir threw in one last question, "What about Jabba? His people aren't just gonna sit back. They'll be moving in as soon as we start picking each other off."

"They're already moving in. Don't worry about the Hutts. I'll take care of them," Tristan though of Myriam.

"If you say so. Anything else?" Ocir seemed surprised at Tristan's lack of concern.

"Nah, I'm out," the Underboss ended the transmission.

"Do you trust him?" a female voice called from behind him.

Tristan spun towards the shadows, blaster in hand as Myriam stepped in to the light. He sighed deeply in relief as he holstered his blaster. "Not many people can sneak up on me. How long you been there?"

"I was here before you got home. You should upgrade your security system. So do you trust him?" Myriam reemphasized.

"He's proven himself," Tristan inclined his head towards the projector. "And so have you. You've been busy."

Myriam slightly rolled her eyes at the idea of proving herself. Not since she had been knighted had she felt such a need. "You as well. And you are leaving so soon?"

A fresh grin spread across Tristan's face, "Gonna miss me?"

For once Myriam allowed herself to relax. "Perhaps," she reached inside her robes. To Tristan's relief she produced a bottle of whiskey instead of her lightsaber. "There are few people I know who appreciated this the way that I do."

Tristan gestured to the small couch and table in the middle of his living quarters. "After you."


	4. Chapter 4: Divide and Conquer Part 4

**Divide and Conquer: Part 4**

Hannibal made his usual rounds of the Cantina in which he had found employment. He was not undercover and it was typically forbidden for a Jedi to have a "side job". However, the Council allowed Hannibal this "employment" as part of his mission. The manager jumped at the chance to hire a Jedi to keep his bar safe. Plus, it only cost him a furnished flat and as many drinks as the Jedi could hold (and unlike some of his comrades, Hannibal was not a heavy drinker.)

This was the only bar on this moon of Kebra. All the business, legitimate and otherwise came through here. Hannibal patted backs and traded the usual greetings as he made his way around the place. Under normal circumstances, customers would avoid speaking with a Jedi and some did still, but Hannibal knew how to work a room. He had a way of finding out information, sometimes without his source realizing what they were giving up. Some even willing gave him information in exchange for Hannibal's looking the other way while another deal went down. Such was cantina politics in the Outer Rim.

"You're a cheatin' Gundark!" a Sabacc player became frustrated with his losing streak.

"You just need some more practice," the elder, but accused player responded calmly from his seat.

"Poodoo!" the accuser jumped from his seat producing a blaster. Before he had his arm fully extended, the weapon was snatched from his hand and flying across the room.

It landed in the hand of the Jedi-bouncer. "Not tonight, gentlemen. Take it outside," Hannibal grinned politely.

Now the tipsy accuser stumbled towards Hannibal, "Not until that cheat returns my money!"

Hannibal calmly passed a hand in front of the unfortunate gambler, "You shouldn't be in here anyway and want to go home."

"Ah," the accuser straightened himself, "I shouldn't be in here anyway. I'm going home."

He brushed passed Hannibal as he stumbled out the door into the street. Hannibal turned back to the players at the table. "Sorry, about the interruption. One round on the house to get the game back on track." Many of the players who had risen to collect their remaining credits gave a low cheer and sat back down at the table. The old gambler who had been accused of cheating tipped his fingers in a salute to the Jedi.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXX**

Claudia stirred just slightly as she lay across Hannibal's chest. "You're still awake?"

"Yeah, what's up?" Hannibal looked down into her captivating dark eyes.

"Nothing. Just thought you would have nodded off by now," she gently smiled back and returned his stare. "What's keeping you awake?"

"Not much," Hannibal admitted. "The good of the galaxy weighs heavy on my mind and such."

Claudia chuckled. "Don't you Jedi meditate or something for that sort of thing?"

"Probably, but it's never really been my strong point," Hannibal grinned.

"Now, that I believe," Claudia shifted so that she was still in his arms, but at his side. "What do you think about?"

"Ah, you know, the usual," Hannibal sighed. "Past choices. The future. Did I make, am I making good decisions?"

"Am I one of those choices that you're questioning?" Claudia half joked.

"Of course not," Hannibal looked again into her eyes, not quite sure how to take the comment.

She gave him a light jab in the side. "Better not be." She rested her head freshly on his shoulder. "You handled that troublemaker well tonight. And kept the game going. Those players bought a lot of drinks and left some big tips."

Hannibal nudged her head with his. "Well, glad I could help. That's what we Jedi do."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXX**

It was still early in the evening. Hannibal could keep his eye on most of the floor as he leaned against the bar. He reached out with his senses into the places that he could not see from this position, the cantina seemed quiet for now.

One by one the usual customers entered. Gamblers, traders, working girls and boys of all species. Visitors passing through on all types of business also found the bar. Hannibal nodded at the old gambler as he made his way to his usual table. Claudia hustled about the bar floor with the other waitresses, making sure everyone's glasses stayed full of drink. She and Hannibal exchanged the occasional smile. The Jedi made a few rounds, returning to his perch at the bar each time before a familiar face entered. Officer Shane was a member of the local law enforcement. "Jedi Hannibal," the deputy greeted.

"Officer Shane, what brings you back to our humble little tavern," Hannibal grinned and motioned to the bar which had cleared as the officer approached. Shane sat in the nearest stool and Hannibal switched from leaning to sitting.

"We got wind of something going down tonight. A shipment of spice is headed here from one of the outer moons. We were hoping you would join us," Shane explained.

"Well," Hannibal gestured around the room. "As you can see, I got a lot going on here, let me ask the boss if I can get off of my duties."

Shane smiled and shook his head as a drink arrived in front of him. Just before downing the shot, he replied, "How'd a guy like you get to be a Jedi."

"For some reason, I hear that alot," Hannibal grinned as he rose from his stool and headed towards the back room. "Hey boss," Hannibal greeted the slightly overweight manager as he entered.

As usual, Grindu sat behind his desk with a cigar hanging out of his mouth, hunched over data. Grindu never made his way to the floor. He was always back here. If Hannibal or Claudia did not come back to keep him posted, the old lizard would be clueless as to how his business was running. "Mr. Jedi, what can I do for you my friend?"

"I gotta step out for a bit. Some pressing business, but should be back before things get rowdy," Hannibal did not ask to leave. They both knew this arrangement was part of Hannibal's duty and Jedi duty took precedent over cantina duty.

"Sure my boy. Not sure things will get rowdy though, the way you've been putting people in their places lately. Your reputation should keep the floor in check while you're out."

"Let's hope so," Hannibal grinned.

He turned to make his way back to the bar floor nearly bumping into Claudia, "What's up?" She asked.

"Gotta go help the locals on a thing. No big deal should be back soon enough."

"You better. And you better be careful," Claudia warned placing her hands on his chest and looking up into his eyes.

He took her chin into his hand. "I always am." He reassured her with a kiss.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"You sure about this?" Hannibal checked the time and cocked his head at Shane.

"This is the place," the officer answered as he watched the warehouse on the monitor. "Although the delivery should have been made two hours ago according to our intel….."

"Then, are you sure about your intel?" Hannibal had to ask.

Shane glanced at one of the officers studying a datapad. The officer merely shrugged in response. "I know the guy," Shane defended. "He's never let us down before."

"Maybe we should pay him a visit. Take me to him," Hannibal urged.

It did not take long to get to the snitch's house. Shane and another officer, blaster's drawn followed Hannibal through the main door which was already open. Hannibal reached out with his senses. Something did not feel right, but he could not sense anyone else in the building. "It's quiet," the Jedi commented.

"Yeah," Shane answered. "I've known where he lived for some time, although he didn't know that I knew. Never known it to be this quiet."

The party was startled by a motionless body sitting on the couch in the living room. "Well, that's why I did not sense anyone else. All three noticed the blaster exit wound out of the back of the victim's head. Someone had stuck a blaster in his mouth. "Is this your snitch?" Hannibal asked.

"Yeah," Shane seemed saddened. "Too bad, I actually liked the guy."

"Who did he work for?" Hannibal inquired.

"Not sure," Shane answered as the other deputy called for backup. "I arrested him once and he just started feeding me what he knew. I didn't want to ask too many questions too soon."

Hannibal was a little annoyed by the answer, but he followed the logic. "Too bad. Wish I had the chance to talk to him." The Jedi spent a reflective moment staring at the body. "You know it's strange that I didn't hear about this in the cantina. I usually hear about everything moving through here, the Hutts, the Suns, occasionally Vespecio or someone else, everybody. Or so I thought…"

Shane shrugged, "I don't know what to tell ya, buddy."

"How careful was he?" Hannibal rose from his squat and aimlessly wandered around the flat.

"He seemed pretty edgy whenever we met. I doubt he would have let anything slip," Shane shrugged again. "Nobody's perfect though. Guess someone could have caught on."

"What about your team? Any loose tongues?"

Shane scowled. "I'm the only one who knew about the source. The rest didn't even have any details about the mission except need-to-know info…..and even then nobody had all the details….except me of course."

Hannibal believed him. He knew that Shane was careful, but maybe not careful enough. The entire bar saw him talking to Hannibal, but nobody was around to hear their conversation. And even if they were, they didn't discuss details. Nobody even knew that he would be gone except Claudia and…..Grindu! The image of the overworked bar manager popped afresh into Hannibal's mind. Sure the bar did a lot of business, but he always seemed a bit too occupied to possibly simply be running a drinking establishment. Hannibal stroked his chin as he stared at the body. Maybe this was a huge piece of a big puzzle that he didn't even know needed to be solved.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Before heading home, Hannibal crept back into the bar. It was just after sunrise. The clean-up crew had already left. Grindu would be the first one to return in a few hours, but for now the place would be empty. He bypassed the security system and slipped into the manager's office. Finly would have been proud at how easily he hacked into the central computer and various datapads lying around the desk. The hours passed and Hannibal's eyes began to hurt. Even an insomniac Jedi needed to rest his eyes. He would go home, try to get a few hours' sleep and maybe take Claudia to breakfast before they all had to return to their job. The information proved worthless. All he learned was the tedious ends and outs of business in the only cantina in the Kebra planetary system.

Hannibal spent the next few days tracking Grindu before and after his office hours which took up most of the day. The old lizard did not appear to have much of a life outside of running the cantina. Hannibal spliced into the manager's communications, but that did little good. Grindu made a few business calls and left a few messages for an estranged daughter who lived on one of the other moons. Nothing he did suggested anything other than the life of an overworked bar manager much less connections to anything illegal like spice smuggling. Of course, a good criminal would be careful. It was possible that Grindu's communications were all an elaborate code, but the Jedi was beginning to feel like he was headed down a dead end.

"I thought you heard about everything through the customers in the cantina?" Iesha's blue image flickered slightly during his report.

"So did I," Hannibal conceded. The normally overconfident knight seemed concerned with his lack of progress.

Not really sure if his report was over or if he was waiting for her input, Iesha offered, "Maybe you should meditate on what you do know and see what the Force gives you?"

Hannibal tried not to role his eyes, "Of course, that is the Jedi way, huh?"

Except for possibly Finly, Iesha would never dream to give advice to a senior. Hannibal just rarely acted like her senior. "I'm sorry, I didn't meat to overstep. Is there anything else to report?"

"Iesha, there's no need to apologize. You are right, of course you are. That's all I meant. I just thought it would help to sound my thought off of someone else."

For a second Iesha was speechless. And for the first time, she clearly saw Hannibal for his strengths. He had good instincts, perhaps he did not convey, or even have, the discipline that most Jedi tried to project, but few could naturally be in the moment the way that he could. For the first time she saw his lack of seriousness as a good thing. On top of that, he was the only one who had ever sought her input and one of the few who ever called her by her name and not just padawan. "Maybe there's somebody there who knows something? Somebody you haven't even thought to ask?"

Hannibal paused in reflection for a moment, "You're a genius. I think I know a guy."

 **XXXXXXXXXX**

The old gambler was never the first one in or the last to leave, but he did arrive early and leave late. Just early and late enough to see everything around him, but not get himself noticed. Today, he arrived at what was roughly his usual time and took one of his usual seats at one of his usual tables. Hannibal was leaning nearby before the older man could even sit comfortably. "I knew you'd be coming to me soon enough," the old man began to pull his credits from his jacket and arrange them on the table.

"And how'd you figure that?" Hannibal asked.

"You can't be any good in my business without learning to read people or feel the atmosphere of a place," the gambler continued to arrange his area of the table.

"Mine either," Hannibal conceded. "Maybe one of us missed our calling."

"Perhaps we both did," the old man glanced up for the first time with a grin. "What can I do for you, Master Jedi?"

Hannibal smirked, "Oh, I'm no Master, but I could use some information."

The old man motioned for a drink, "You want to know who murders snitchin' spice dealers in the Kebra planetary system."

"That'll do," Hannibal nodded."

"Who do you think runs Kebra?" the gambler seemed to change the subject.

Hannibal pondered the question. Everyone seemed to send business through here, but he had never quite figured out who claimed ownership. "We're closest to Hutt territory."

The gambler shook his head.

"So the Suns?"

"You're gonna run out of guesses soon."

"Not Vespecio either then? There's a lot going on for it to be an independent operation," Hannibal almost sounded impressed.

Kebra is named after the family that first colonized this system, back, oh….. before even your Republic. Their descendants have run it ever since," the old man took a sip of his freshly arrived brew.

"That is impressive," Hannibal mused. "So how does one find one of these descendants?"

"Just see what's in front of you," the old man took another sip.

Hannibal looked around the barroom, "OK, I'm stumped again."

The old man sighed. "Who do you think runs this cantina?"

"Well Grindu, but he….."

"No," the old man shook his head. That old lizard manages the day-to-day operations, but who really runs this place?"

Hannibal watched the increasing bustle around the room. Until this moment, it had never bothered him that he never met the owner. He watched as dealers set up their tables. He watched the waitresses begin to make their rounds. For the first time, he took it all in. Claudia grinned as his eyes found hers. He watched her longer than the rest. Like himself, when he worked the room, she seemed to know all the right things to say to all the right people. "I have no idea," Hannibal mumbled.

The old gambler followed the Jedi's line of sight. "Yeah, ya do."

 **XXXXXXXXXXX**

"Whataya got Deputy?"

Shane tried not to act nearly as startled as he actually was as Hannibal seemed to step from the shadows fully cloaked and hooded. He finally fully understood how the Jedi had come to command such fear and respect. "You're not gonna like it," Shane grimaced.

"If it solves the case," Hannibal corrected, "I'll love it."

Shane shrugged, "OK. The oldest living heir in the ancient Kebra family is a man named Octavian. And his eldest grandchild is…."

"Claudia," Hannibal frowned.

"Right," Shane was honestly saddened. He had known Claudia for years. He loved her just like every other man who set foot in the cantina. "Sorry."

Hannibal waved off the apology. "Been tacking her for a week now. The old man's a veg, been on life support for years. Before, she told me she was her grandfather's nurse. But since I've been observing, droids do all the work. She just meets with visitors."

"She's running the business," Shane could barely believe his own words. "but if she's been doing it so long now, why still keep the old man around? Just let him rest."

"I thought of that too," Hannibal agreed. "She has aunts and uncles who could threaten her position."

Shane nodded, "But as long as the old man's alive, he's in charge and she's just following his orders. She's smart, that one."

"Yeah," Hannibal mumbled.

"So how do we proceed?"

"We need to round up most, if not all of the rest of the family when we take her. That way we can shut the whole thing down at once," Hannibal explained.

Shane pondered the meaning of the words. "Kebra will be crime free. I'll be out of a job."

"Oh, don't worry," Hannibal reassured, "before we wrap up good, somebody else will be stepping up. We just have to stay ready for them too."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

It was rare that so many of the family gathered in the house all at once, but the old man's birthday was a special occasion. The droids pumped him with enough drugs to keep his vitals as close to life-like as possible. Claudia would just explain that he was not having a good day. Only the most dedicated would go in to watch him sleep for a few minutes. With any luck, his body would twitch to offer a clue that he was still functional. The family would drink and talk business as usual. If any of her elders came up with a decision that she did not like, Claudia would change it later and blame the old man. She had her act down to a science, she had for years.

"So how is he really?" Claudia's next oldest cousin asked as they sipped wine in the circle with their gathered aunts and uncles.

"Steadily going downhill," Claudia hung her head as she seemed to confess the truth. "I'd be surprised to see him make another year."

"Seems like you said that last year," one uncle joked as he finished his glass.

A more ambitious aunt chimed in, "I just wish he would pick a successor. People are forgetting who we are….."

"That's what we want," another spoke up, "but we do need stability at the top. Especially with the Jedi hanging around….."

"Oh, don't worry about the Jedi," Claudia reassured. "He's interested in bigger wamprats. Besides, for now he works for us….."

The party made a collective gasp as the power suddenly shut down leaving them in the dark. "Don't worry!" Claudia called out. Within seconds, the lights flickered back to life. "It happens. That's why we have back-up generators."

The words were barely out of her mouth, when the generator also went suddenly silent. Now it was Claudia's turn to panic, she spun towards her grandfather's room, but before she could break into a sprint, every window of the house was flooded with beams of light. "Nobody move!" A voice boomed over a loudspeaker from outside.

The front door of the house was ripped from its frame. Local officers immediately flooded through the hole. Claudia ignored their commands, darting into her grandfather's bedroom. The droids worked frantically to keep the old man's body functional. Some even plugged themselves into the machines in the hopes that they could offer enough power to keep them going. "No!" Claudia screamed as she was grabbed from behind and dragged from the room.

Outside of the house, she was brought face to face with Hannibal, standing calmly in the midst of the chaos. "You?" She hissed. "You did this?"

Hannibal dropped his head. He had tried to prepare himself for this. "I'm sorry," was all he could offer.

"Sorry?" she spit at his robes, her charm and beauty replaced with rage. "You murdered my grandfather!"

"He's been gone for years," Hannibal was now collected. "You used him and played your family, just as you did to me." Hannibal eyes met hers one last time.

Claudia's composure began to return. "I suppose we were playing each other." A new set of officers grabbed her to take her to a vehicle.

"There was a time that I didn't think so," the Jedi mumbled.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The next day, Hannibal slowly walked into the cantina. This was the first day since he came to this system that he dreaded entering this place. The entire bar was dead silent and empty except for Grindu, who today was behind the bar. As usual, he was chewing on a cigar as he worked. He appeared to be taking inventory.

"We open today, boss?" Hannibal took one of the stools.

"Nah," government confiscated the place," the old lizard paused for only a second. "I gotta give an account of everything in here or they could be arrestin' me as some kinda accomplice."

"Poodoo," Hannibal muttered. "I'm really sorry….."

Grindu shrugged, "You were just doin yer job, kid. S'all any of us can ever do. I haven't counted the other end yet," the soon-to-be unemployed manager motioned with his head, "help yerself to a drink."

Hannibal could not help but smile. Even on the verge of poverty, Grindu respected duty above all else. "I'm good. Need a hand with anything?"

"Nah," the old lizard gave half a grin and hunched back to his data pads.

Before Hannibal could figure out what to do next, the front door slid open, "Gentlemen," Shane's voice greeted, "I was hoping to find both of you here."

"I'm still counting, officer," Grindu seemed startled. "Will take a few days."

Shane smiled reassuringly, "I'm not here about that. I have a business proposition."

Those words got Grindu's attention. "What kind?"

"Well, as you are both well aware, our arrests yesterday were massive. We're still sorting through how wide it reaches. What we failed to take into account, though," the deputy paused, "is just how many important legitimate businesses were affected."

"Like us," Grindu nodded.

Shane also nodded, "Therefore, since this place is now the property of the Kebra Planetary System government, I have been authorized to sign ownership of the place over….. to you," Shane's eyes met Hannibal's.

Hannibal laughed, "Jedi are not allowed to own anything. It was hard enough convincing the Council to let me have a 'job'. There's no way they'd approve me 'buying' a bar."

Shane urged, "You can sign it back to us when your time is over."

"It won't be the same," Grindu interrupted. "People can buy a Jedi pullin' security, but there's no way they'd trust a Jedi bar."

Hannibal pointed at the seasoned manager, "I believe you have the man for the job right here."

Grindu waved off the thought. "I'm no bottom-line guy. I just handle this kinda stuff." He waved at his stack of data pads.

"Perhaps I can solve this," a new voice entered the conversation. The trio turned to see the old gambler leaning in the doorway. He approached the bar, swinging a bag from around his shoulder. The bag hit the bar with a clunk. The gambler opened the bag and began removing stacks of credits. "I'll take the bar. Grindu continues as manager. The Jedi continues as bouncer and I continue to play sabacc." He paused to let his words sink in. "Except, I don't just want it signed over. I want to buy it outright."

After a few stunned seconds, Grindu spoke up, "I'll vouch for 'im." Hannibal nodded in agreement.

"Me too," Shane grinned. After a second's pause he caught Grindu's eye. "Call the rest of the staff. You'll be open tomorrow."

Grindu clapped his hands together. "I like the sound of that."

"Great," Shane grinned. "Let's drink on it." He leaned over the bar for a bottle, but his hand was swatted by the lizard's.

"Not those. They've been counted already."


	5. Chapter 5: Homefront

**Homefront**

The Gamorrean licked his lips as his partner fumbled with the lock. They were back in business. Soon the bank and everything in it would be theirs. It had been a tough year and change on Syllian since the Jedi arrived. With Zeakwon's old crew under the thumb of the Jedi, local entrepreneurs, such as himself, could try to make a living again. His hope was that soon enough, they would pop up on the radar of the Black Sun or the Hutts. That was where the big money would be.

"Guess you thugs didn't get the message," a voice called from behind. "This type of behavior is no longer tolerated."

The Gamorrean pair's collective heart sank. They both spun around with blasters drawn, each expecting to be facing the beam of a lightsaber. Instead, there was just some kid in a tattered cloak. The partners looked at each other with a chuckle. The lock expert put away his blaster and returned to his work. The other waved the intruder off, "Get outta here, kid!"

Another voice broke in this time. "I'm afraid he's right. You are the ones who should get out of here." A cloaked figure stepped in from the shadows with a lightsaber hanging in plain sight.

The green blade of the saber ignited and easily deflected the bolt from the Gamorrean's blaster. He grunted and stumbled as the bolt hit him in the chest. The other jumped to his feet and spun around as his friend hit the ground.

Iesha pulled back here hood. "You are under arrest."

Minutes later, local law enforcement was placing the would-be-thief in custody. Jenaid excitedly explained how he saw the two thieves and called Iesha on the comlink that Hannibal had given him. "I'll be a Jedi soon enough."

"Sure kid," the officer grinned as he finished his report.

"I told you to wait," Iesha chided after the officer walked away.

"They could have gotten away!" Jenaid defended his actions.

Iesha smiled. She understood his intentions. "I get it. And you did good, but I don't want to see you get hurt."

"The Force is with me," Jenaid sounded in awe. "We can't put up with their kind."

"I know," Iesha patted his back. "Just be careful is all."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Tell that kid to be careful," Granger's image flickered as he received his padawan's report.

"I did," she replied. "I do, all the time. He wants to help us, which is more than I can say for most of the people we've met during this mission….."

"Don't bad mouth the Council," Granger warned.

Iesha chuckled, "I meant folks here on Syllian, but good to know your true thoughts."

Granger could not help but smirk. "Well…so….Jenaid still believes he will be a Jedi?"

"Yeah," Iesha sighed. "It will hit him hard when the truth sets in."

"That is true for all of us," Granger agreed. "Be there for him when the time comes. Help him make the transition."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Iesha worked to clear her mind as she breathed in deeply, then out. Sometimes her meditations came easily. Other times her mind was too scattered to do it properly, but she knew that the discipline lay within the struggle. Her eyes focused on Jenaid as they slowly opened. She wondered where his mind was. Did it come easy for him? Why had the Force chosen her to be a Jedi and not him? And what did the Force mean to a person who could not be a Jedi?

"We're finished already?" Jenaid seemed to come back as she rose from the floor.

"I am," she glanced at the time. "It's been a couple of hours."

"Really? It didn't seem that long…" the boy sounded disappointed.

"Did you see or feel anything?" Iesha was a bit surprised by his patience.

Jenaid pondered the question. "No, but it seemed like I just blinked and we were done."

"Maybe you fell asleep," Iesha smiled.

"No," Jenaid defended. "I was just kinda…..gone."

"Well," Iesha explained. "That's how it works."

"So I'm doing well then?" Jenaid asked excitedly.

Iesha hated these questions, but she had to give the kid credit. "Better than most Jedi, I'd say."

"So why can't I be one already?" Jenaid's voice seemed to sadden.

"Technically, I'm not one either. The Force is mysterious. No one understands it all. I just know that it is with and in all of us, Jedi or not."

Jenaid snapped out of his disappointment. "What about Master Granger or Yoda? Don't they understand it?"

Iesha chuckled, "They know more than we do, which is why they are Masters, but nobody understands it all."

Jenaid pondered the words. "Finly told me about the Chosen One. He gets it, right?"

Iesha grinned again. "He or she may fully understand the Force, but until he comes, we just have to figure it out as best we can."

Jenaid's mind began to wonder, "Do you ever think that you could be the Chosen One?"

"Nah," most of what Iesha knew about Jedi lore was what she had heard from Finly. Her master was way too practical to spend time teaching such things. "If it's any of us, then my money's on Myriam, but it's not something most of us spend much time thinking about."

"Why not?"

The padawan sighed, "The Force has chosen us all for something. We must focus on finding and staying on our path. I'm sure it will be no different for the Chosen One."

"Oh okay. I get it," and with that, Jenaid darted off to find his path.

"I wish I got it, kid," Iesha mumbled behind him.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Jessie was tired. No one who came before him, even before the magistrate arrived in Syllian, had to chase it like he was doing. He had to scratch out whatever living he could manage under the thumb of the Jedi, then he had to be informed enough about what his rivals were up to, both to keep them out of his territory and to be able to give the Jedi enough information that he remained useful and not wind up like Zeakwon. His thoughts remained on his old boss as he waked towards his office door. The door slid open revealing a familiar shadow behind the desk. The shadow's legs were propped on the desk. "I thought you were Granger's padawan, not Myriam's." He flicked on the lights to clearly see Iesha. Despite being shrouded in Jedi robes, she was an attractive young woman, but he was only distracted by that thought for a second. "I could get killed with you popping in like this, definitely one of her moves."

Iesha tried not to blush at the compliment of being compared to Myriam. "If you don't want me to pop in, then you shouldn't miss your check-ins."

Jessie shrugged with a sigh. "There's nothing to report. Business is a trickle these days."

"What about others moving in?" Iesha's eyes narrowed.

Jessie shrugged again. "Who? The Hutts? The Suns? I'm sure they have people here, but nobody big. Not with you guys on the offensive like you are. Only folks around here that I hear about are the locals trying to make a name. And we either get 'em for not kickin' up or you arrest them or….."

"They die resisting arrest," Iesha nodded.

"You're definitely taking after Myriam….."

The door slid open, interrupting the conversation. "What's this?" a startled Pierre asked at seeing Jessie so comfortable with a Jedi. His hand jerked to his blaster, but Iesha waved him off.

"I'm not here for that," Iesha reassured, although the glare in her eye said otherwise. Turning her gaze, although not her attention back to Jessie. "So you know nothing of two Gamorrean bank robbers?"

"Only that there is now only one Gamorrean bank robber," Jessie shrugged again. "Not one of mine."

"Yours?" Iesha leaned forward feigning surprise. "Then you confess to being the new crime lord of Syllian?"

Jessie grinned. The kid was smart. "Far as I know, there is no crime on Syllian to be the "lord" of."

"Keep it that way," Iesha rose from her chair. She glared at Pierre as she exited the office.

He saluted as she passed. "Good seein' ya again."

She froze in her tracks and turned to face him. The padawan enjoyed sensing his fear when she stopped. She wanted him to pull his blaster so she would have some excuse, but he was too smart for that. And if she killed him in cold blood, she knew that word would reach Granger. "Catch ya later," was all she could manage.

"What was that about?" Pierre asked when Iesha was gone and the door was shut.

As the acting boss, Jessie did not care for his semi-underling's tone, but Pierre reported directly to Tristan and this was exactly the type of thing he was looking to report. "Making her rounds, falling leads, I don't know."

Pierre sighed as he slumped into the chair across the desk. "Everybody's too damn friendly with Jedi these days if ya ask me. What we got goin' on today, boss?"

It was Jessie's turn to sigh, "Not much."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Jenaid was down-right panicked when he reached Iesha's quarters. She was attempting to meditate, but boredom had already set in. "Iesha!" the frantic boy yelled as he entered. "You have an emergency message from the local police!"

 _Finally._ A sense of shame crept up her spine as the padawan jumped to her feet and tried to swallow her sense of excitement. She rushed to the console at her table. An officer's image sprung on the screen. "What can I do for you officer?"

"Master Jedi," the officer seemed to be yelling at the top of his lungs, but there was far too much background noise. "One of the passenger trains is out of control. It is racing for a massive curve. Its emergency breaks are nonresponsive and some glitch in the system is preventing us from doing an emergency shut-down. We need any help you can provide."

Iesha pondered the possibilities. "Do you suspect sabotage?"

"No way to know for sure, just yet…..please come quickly!" the officer ended the transmission.

Minutes later, Iesha stood on an overpass above the magnetic tracks. The train thundered underneath her at an unbelievable speed. Still not sure how to proceed, the young padawan hopped down to the roof of one of the middle cars. If she had not immediately flattened, she would have been blown off by the force of the wind.

Closing her eyes, Iesha reached out with the Force. She found the breaks. _Better start from the back or we could flip._ She found the breaks on the rearmost car. It took a few seconds, but they activated. Although she noticed no real change in the speed, she moved in her mind to the next car. Its breaks likewise obeyed and she continued to work her way up. Soon the speed was noticeably slower and the screech of the breaks was deafening as she moved passed her own car.

She soon reached the front and although the train had slowed and the breaks were straining, it was still rushing to meet its fate. She thought back to when Master Granger stopped the spice train over a year before. He had not been concerned about the lives aboard the train and threw up an invisible barrier of the Force for it to slam into. She however, was entirely concerned with the lives aboard the train. She loosened her grip of her hands and the Force on the train so that she slid back to the last car. Where Granger had pushed she would try to pull. Again she would start from the back and work her way up, pulling on each car through the Force.

Iesha breathed in deeply. She tightened her physical grip on the top of the car and felt her mind pulling back. The train was again noticeably slower before she reached the middle cars. She had no idea how much time she had left, only that her fate would be the same as the passengers. She reached out her mind again. Moving faster this time. She also began to picture the approaching curve. Panic began to creep into her thoughts. She fought it, but it was no use. She tightened her grip on the roof and let out a scream with all her might.

Everything went dark after that, but she was not unconscious. The padawan was not sure what was happening, but somehow she knew that this darkness was the Force. She saw nothing, yet felt everything. She sensed the train when it stopped. She sensed the people aboard and knew that they were safe. She sensed the approaching authorities. She felt Jenaid watching the events unfold from a monitor back at the headquarters. She could feel insects scurrying, rodents scavenging, even plants growing. It was like the entire planet was speaking to her at that moment. This was the most aware she had ever been. Time seemed to be flying by and frozen all at once. _This must have been what Jenaid was feeling while meditating._ She vowed to try harder next time or maybe the secret was not to try…..

The world around her was soon screaming in her ears again. Iesha opened her eyes and felt the train beneath her body. The roof had caved in slightly under the force of... the Force emanating from her. Passengers and officers were stirring on the ground on the sides of the track. Her entire body ached. She rose slowly. The crowd erupted into cheers when the young Jedi came into view. Iesha tried to smile before she collapsed, this time into unconsciousness.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

A few days later, life was back to normal. "That is most impressive, young padawan," Numa's image reacted to Iesha's report. I do not know many Masters who could summon such a feat."

"I'm still sore…..but yeah, everybody was okay," was the only response Iesha could offer.

"You are not pleased with the outcome?" Numa grinned. "Such actions can take a lot out of a Jedi. Someday you will learn to separate your mind and body further and you will not need as much physical excursion." The older Jedi paused. "How exactly did you accomplish this?"

Iesha shrugged. "I don't know. I just knew the train needed to stop and…..well…. stopped it."

Numa nodded in approval. "Very good, young one. I guess you are your Master's padawan."

Iesha blushed at the comparison to Master Granger. Then she wondered if Numa knew that Granger's expulsion from the order was not real. Then it dawned on her that Numa may be referring to herself, which slightly angered the younger Jedi. She breathed in, in an effort to swallow all of the emotions. "And now things are back to normal, I suppose."

"You would like more excitement, such as the train?" Numa raised an eye brow.

"No, not at all the kind of excitement that I want…" the statement was out before Iesha could catch it.

Numa sighed, "You want to be out fighting outlaws, yet you saved more lives by stopping the train than most of our team combined in the last year. You should be more than satisfied with your work. Protecting the citizens of the Republic is the foremost duty of any Jedi regardless of what any specific assignment may be."

"I know. I know," Iesha tried not to become frustrated. "But our team has a mission…"

"And you are fulfilling your part quite well. Like with the train, when you assisted me with my mission, being the link between each member of the team, mentoring that young street kid. All of it is the important... and the will of the Force," Numa interrupted. "And you are growing exponentially in your skills as you do your job."

"Thanks," Iesha tried not to sound bland.

"Keep up the good work. I need to go make my rounds here. I'll check in the same time next week. Numa out."

The image faded and Iesha was alone. She rubbed her sore shoulders. "Yep, back to work."


	6. Chapter 6: Sentinel Part 1

**Sentinel Part 1**

Nelino rarely went into the pool area when he went to the gym, but for some reason, he felt compelled to drop by there today. Maybe it was the energy of the Force telling him to pay a visit or maybe it was the large crowd that had gathered around the lap pool. Nelino made his way through the crowd to the edge of the water. "What's going on?" he asked the people near the front.

"Same as every other day. Guy comes in and swims for two straight hours, under water without taking a breath," the stranger motioned at the figure moving beneath the surface of the pool.

"What? He's testing breathing devices or something?" Nelino inquired further.

"Nah, he ain't got no breathin' device," the spectator shook his head.

"Lots of species have gills," Nelino offered.

"He's human," the man explained.

"Impossible," Nelino shook off the possibility. "Gotta be some trick."

"Ain't no trick," the stranger continued to enlighten. "He's a Jedi."

"A Jedi?" Nelino was not sure how to take the explanation. "Jedi aren't supposed to show off like this."

"Well, this one does," the guy smirked. "If you were that good at something, wouldn't you show off a bit?"

"Jedi are supposed to be different, a cut above," Nelino fumed. "Not given to these simple indulgences."

The stranger cocked an eyebrow at Nelino, "Well, take it up with him."

"I just might," Nelino responded. He studied afresh the shadowy figure moving below the water. He appeared to be wearing nothing but swim trunks. "Wait, where's his lightsaber?"

"Hell if I know," the spectator was becoming annoyed. "I suppose he takes it off."

Nelino grinned. "I suppose he does."

In the pool, Hector's lungs were just beginning to burn as he passed the two hour mark. He pushed himself just a couple of laps more, before he broke the surface for air. Pulling himself up on the ledge of the pool, several from the crowd moved in to comment. Several compliments and pats on the back later, Hector was toweling off and headed to the locker room. He felt that demonstrating his power in this way added to the overall mystery and awe that common people held for the Jedi. And he had to admit, the admiration felt good. He supposed that was once why he enjoyed the lightsaber competitions so much. Maybe someday he would move beyond such petty needs, but he had not reached that point just yet.

In the locker room, Hector wrapped himself in a towel and stripped off his trunks. His muscles ached, but it was a good ache. A good hot shower would soothe his aching muscles. He was tempted to soak in the hot tub before he left, but he would wait for his hot shower until he got home. He would do a patrol sweep on the way and end his day with meditation if there was no excitement.

J'ruck was not the most exciting planet. It was well developed and active, much like Syllian. The criminal element stayed mostly beneath the surface. To the untrained eye, in most regards, it was a peaceful, boring planet. However, the criminal enterprises that Hector had uncovered were quickly coming to regard the blue blade of his lightsaber with respect.

Hector opened the locker in which his robes hung. On the shelf at the top was a lock box. It was specially designed to only be opened from the inside. One had to use the Force to open it. Hector did just that and the box popped open with ease. Despite his two hour swim, Hector nearly lost his breath for the first time that afternoon when he saw the empty box.

A lightsaber was a Jedi's weapon. Most Jedi would say that theirs was an extension of themselves. It was not expressly forbidden, but went against the Jedi Code and general practices to remove one's lightsaber during any waking hour. If one had to remove one's saber, then it should be kept under the tightest security. Swimming laps was not exactly a "had to remove" situation and the special lockbox was not exactly the tightest security. _Not again!_ Was Hector's first thought. Then he moved to more useful notions. _How? Who could have possibly?_

Most Jedi were attune to their sabers, Hector always felt that he had a particularly strong connection with his. He breathed in to quiet his mind and reached out for the missing weapon. It was still close by. Without changing into his clothes, the toweled Jedi rushed out of the locker room into the reception area. He scanned the crowd while still reaching out with his senses. He ignored the varied stares of the other gym patrons as they gazed at his nearly naked physic. Hector's eye finally caught the figure that he was looking for. A man leaned inconspicuously, yet confidently with his arms folded against the rail of the balcony of the café where most people ate after their work out.

From his perch against the rail, Nelino caught Hector's eye. He produced the lightsaber from his coat, waving it at its rightful owner. "Hey, 'Jedi'," Nelino used the title mockingly. "Lose something?"

Before Hector could extend his arm to Force pull the saber back to him, Nelino, hopped to the top of the rail, spun around and slid over the edge. Hector held the towel up with his hand as he ran to the rail. Looking down, there was nothing but passing traffic and bustling J'ruck below. He tried to reach out in the Force again, but there were too many people and too much activity around him. And mainly, the theft had left him too taken aback to focus.

 **XXXXXXXXXXX**

Hector sat in the middle of the floor of his quarters. He breathed in collecting and calming his thoughts. With his mind, he reached out for his lightsaber. He heard, no, felt the hustle and bustle of J'ruck's night life. If his saber was still on planet, he would be able to sense it. He was confident that the thief had not yet left the planet. Local authorities took the mystery man's image from the security cameras at the health club. Facial recognition was running through every spaceport on the planet.

Fortunately, the officers had not asked too many questions. They made finding this fugitive the highest priority. If he was wanted by the Jedi, then he must be a bad guy. A tinge of guilt crept up Hector's spine. Surely the authorities had better things to do. His lightsaber was his responsibility. Technically, he should have it on him at all times. He was merely paying the consequences for not following the letter of the law.

The frustrated Jedi let out a final sigh and rose from his meditative position. He almost always meditated with his saber, even when it was not the focus of his meditations. He felt naked without it. It was as if this thief had known exactly how to hit him in his most vulnerable area. Fortunately, having teammates such as Numa and Myriam for over a year had pushed him to hone his other Force skills. Sure, being saber-less was bad, but he was now in a much better position to handle himself without it.

His console buzzed with an incoming message. Hector glanced at the time. He had been at his meditations for much longer than he intended and missed his check in. "Poodoo," he muttered as he entered the code into the console bringing up Iesha's image.

"Good to see you too," Iesha returned the greeting. "You missed your…"

"Yeah, I know. Sorry," he tried to hide his frustrations, but knew he was failing. "I was meditating."

A puzzled look spread across Iesha's face. "You seem a bit agitated to have just completed meditations….."

"Oh yeah," Hector struggled for an excuse. "I'm helping the locals track a pretty adept thief. He's proving to be very elusive and it's quite frustrating."

"Gotcha," Iesha responded. "Is he with the Suns?"

"Seems to be independent. Maybe they hired him for some jobs. Not sure yet," Hector was not outright lying, these were all possibilities that he was considering.

"Well," Iesha seemed interested, but also eager to wrap up. "Let me know if I can help. Anything else?"

Hector sighed, "Caught a Suns enforcer earlier this week. And some of Vespecio's spice dealers who fled Syllian trying to set up shop here, but it's all in my official report." He knew Iesha would be quick to avoid any long reports.

"Great. Well may the Force be with you in tracking your thief. Iesha out."

"Thanks. Seems I'm gonna need it," Hector muttered to the empty air of his flat.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Hector stood with the local officers scanning the surveillance feeds. Both his search through the Force and the facial recognition were turning up nothing. This guy was good. To be able to avoid sweeping surveillance and mask the presence of a Jedi's own lightsaber? Either the guy was a genius or….. He had training. But clearly he was no Jedi. Who could possibly train someone to be this adept with the Force? He could almost hear Finly screaming, 'Sith',but shook the idea away. If this guy was Force-sensitive, he most likely had just learned to adapt is powers to his chosen profession, not unlike Tristan must have learned to do.

"Who is this guy?" One of the officers finally asked.

"A highly skilled thief, apparently," Hector answered.

"What'd he steal?"

"A….uh….precious artifact….."

"I see," the officer glanced down at the spot on the Jedi's belt where he normally had his lightsaber prominently displayed. "Guess you don't need your laser sword to catch a thief, huh?"

Hector shot his eyes at the officer. "Not for this particular mission."

"I got something!" another officer yelled from his console. Hector and the senior officer rushed over to view the screen. "He was just at this shop," the officer pointed at neighborhood store that appeared to be of no particular importance.

"Expand out," the senior officer ordered. The view on the screen complied.

Hector examined the view of the wider neighborhood. "He's still near there," Hector mumbled. _And more importantly, so is my lightsaber._ "I'm heading out there. Keep scanning and let me know if you catch another glimpse of him."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXX**

Hector wondered through a junk yard near the shop in which the thief's face had popped up. The mystery man was close. Soon, Hector would have his lightsaber back and someone who had to be on a most-wanted list somewhere would be in custody. "Took you long enough," a voice called from behind.

Hector spun to face his opponent. His hand went to his belt out of habit, but still no lightsaber. "You are, of course, still looking for this," Nelino pulled Hector's saber from beneath his coat, taunting him afresh with it.

"Gotcha now," Hector grinned, extending his arm and calling his saber back to him.

Nelino smirked in return. Before Hector's saber was half way back to its owner, Nelino opened his own hand calling the saber back to him. "You wouldn't have even been able to find me, if I hadn't popped up to throw you a hint." He looked at the lightsaber back in his hand. " _Still_ looking for this, I see."

Hector's mouth dropped. "I don't know who or what you are, but nobody steals my saber and gets to gloat about it." Near Hector was what appeared to be an old engine for some small ship. Through the Force, Hector lifted the engine and flung it towards the thief.

Nelino activated Hector's saber, slicing the engine in half. The halves landed on either side of him. "What else you got, 'Jedi'?"

More frustration and a twinge of anger rushed through Hector. He swallowed his urge to give in to rage. "There's plenty more where that came from."

Hector Force-slung another large piece of junk at Nelino. This time the thief closed the saber and swatted his hand at the approaching projectile. The junk obeyed and curved to the side. "I will give you this much, you're not using your rage to power your abilities."

Hector's jaw fell open. "Who are you? What are you?"

"I'm the guy who unmasks frauds like you. You call yourself a Jedi, but do Jedi show off to crowds of people? Do they leave their lightsabers in a locker to be stolen? You can't even call it back to you. You're pathetic, 'Jedi'," Nelino let his disgust out through his words.

And those words stung Hector, just as Numa's had over a year ago. Neither of them had seen the progress that he had made. Of course even the strides he had made in other areas of the Force were being easily overshadowed by this…whatever he was. "I don't have to prove anything to the likes of you." Hector motioned with both hands this time, lifting two gigantic hunks of scrap, hurling both at Nelino.

In response Nelino extended both hands. The scrap pieces froze in mid-air, but within seconds were hurtling back at Hector. "Poodoo," was all Hector could answer with before diving to the side narrowly missing the two large scraps. By the time he was back on his feet, the thief had vanished again. Hector called into his comlink. "Guys, are you tracking him?"

"Sorry Master Jedi," a young officer's voice answered. "He's a ghost again."

"Keep trying," Hector tried not to sound frustrated. He returned the comlink to his pocket and began his slow walk back to his quarters as he pondered his next move.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Hector sat at the console in his flat, still not sure what to do. He had been negligent for not mentioning the theft of his saber to Iesha during his last check in. And sure it had been pride or embarrassment that had stopped him from telling her, but to send a special report now would be even worse. And who was this mysterious thief who could wield the Force with such power. Jedi were under standing orders to report suspected non-sanctioned Force users, but should he not investigate further to make an informed report? At least this was the question that he asked himself to justify his actions and hide his embarrassment just a bit longer.

Then he had an idea. If ever questioned by the Council about his actions, he would be able to report that he called in the most expert person he knew in these matters. He keyed in the frequency on his communication console. Finly's image appeared almost immediately. "Hec, long time, no see. What's up, buddy?" the Sullustan greeted.

"Hey Fin. I think I got something right up your alley."


	7. Chapter 7: Sentinel Part 2

**Sentinel Part 2**

Finly descended the ramp of the shuttle and took in his surroundings. Few planets were like this one. Just as Markuria was almost exclusively Vespuccio territory and Tatooine belonged to the Hutts, J'ruck completely belonged to the Black Sun. The planet to which he was assigned was very different. He actually had a whole system. The planets that made up the system were sparsely populated, either with people hiding from legitimate governments or traveling for super expensive getaways. Almost all were illegal, but it was not controlled by any one group. The people who went there were wealthy enough to be untouchable or on the run and hiding.

Not so this planet that Hector had been assigned to. The more than qualified knight should be able to handle pretty much anything that the Suns could throw at him, but it seemed that Finly's dear friend had encountered something potentially worse.

"Fin!" Hector called from across the landing pad. "Thanks for coming so quickly."

"No problem," the pair shook hands as soon as they were close enough. "So what's the plan?"

"Well, I don't really have one…" Hector sighed. "Our mystery man's face has not popped up in the recognition software at any spaceports so I don't think he has left the planet. Unfortunately, his face hasn't been spotted…well…. Anywhere."

"Except once," Finly corrected.

"Right," Hector conceded. "And then he said he wanted me to find him. So I'm hoping you can work your magic."

"So the guy's good," Finly nodded. "And you say he can use the Force."

"Pretty adeptly, I'd say," Hector eyed the increasingly curious and excited Finly. "I know what you're thinking, but let's not jump to conclusions until we know something for sure."

"I didn't say anything," Finly grinned. "But….. a powerful, well trained Force user who's not a Jedi? If it looks like a Bantha and smells like a Bantha, chances are it's a…"

"Secret Sith Lord?" Hector finished. "I see your point, but you know as well as I do that all Jedi are under standing orders to report any suspected Sith followers to the Council. Before I waste valuable time running back to Coruscant, I want to make sure that I have something real to report."

"And I see your point," Finly conceded. "So Sith or not…" Finly reached into his robes and produced a smaller than usual hilt, "you may need this."

Hector eyed the odd hilt. He ignited the blade and stared curiously at the shorter-than-normal greenish beam. "I never knew you carried a shuto."

"I don't really carry it," Finly clarified, "but I do keep it around as backup for just such an emergency." Finly could tell by Hector's expression that he expected more explanation than that. "Let's just say this is not my first experience in losing a saber." The Sullustan added with a grin. "Ask Myriam about my very first lightsaber someday."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Finly wandered through the junk yard in which Hector had fought the lightsaber thief just as he had roamed through the health club in which the theft had taken place. He sensed…..something, it was different, not a buzz in the Force that he was accustomed to, but something. It was not dark like he would expect a Sith or Dark Side user to be, which in some ways worried him even more. This was something he was completely unprepared for.

The confused Jedi was tired of wandering aimlessly and decided to check back with the police. "Greetings, Master Jedi," the sergeant supervising the survailance nodded as Finly entered the monitoring room. "Where's Master Hector?"

"He's meditating. Most Jedi are especially attuned to their lightsaber so I'm on the ground search while he reaches out through the Force," Finly explained.

"So that's what this is all about, a missing laser sword?" the sergeant leaned his head towards the Jedi.

"Oh," Finly realized his slip. "Hector didn't tell you?"

"Well," the sergeant admitted. "I kind of suspected. A little embarrassing, I suppose."

"True enough," Finly grinned, "but rest assured, if anyone is clever enough to steal a Jedi's weapon right from under his nose, then he is worthy of all this time and effort."

"Not arguing with you, just my first experience with a less than perfect Jedi," the sergeant seemed sincerely taken aback.

"None of us are perfect," Finly assured. He turned his attention back to the monitors. It did not take long for a thought to hit him. "Are there any bars, taverns, cantinas, etc. in the neighborhood where the suspect was spotted?"

"A few," the sergeant nodded.

"Which one would be the best one for a person who wanted to keep an ear to the ground?"

The sergeant stroked his chin in thought, then he punched a buttons and a shady looking cantina appeared on the screen. "I'd go with this one."

A grin parted Finly's face. He had a feeling in his gut. "We may have something here." Reaching for his comlink, he called, "Hey Hec, you with us?"

"You got something?" came the answer.

"Not much more than a hunch," Finly conceded, but more than I've had all day. Meet me at the coordinates I'm sending you."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Hector leaned against a wall across the street from the dive bar when Finly arrived. He gestured with his chin at the building when Finly walked up. "When will these low-lifes learn that this type of place is always the first place we look?"

"Sooooo…..you've been here already, then?" Finly raised an eyebrow at his cocky comrade.

"OK so maybe not the _first_ place," Hector corrected, but pretty close. "I can feel my saber. Either it has been here or it's close."

"Doesn't necessarily mean that our man is here though," Finly reminded. The pair began their trek across the street. Before they could reach the door, they were stopped by a commotion coming from the alley next to the bar.

"No! Please! Don't!" and various other screams of desperation sent the Jedi sprinting into the darkened alley. At the end of it, in a corner, their suspect had his hand extended. A helpless body hung in the air in front of him, gasping for breath.

Both the approaching Jedi flung their own arms forward, Force shoving both men to the ground. "He's gonna kill me!" the choking victim whimpered in the corner of the alley.

Nelino rose to his feet. He jabbed his arm to the side, sending a Force push towards his victim, which slammed the man into the wall of one of the buildings, then sending his crumpled body to the ground. "Fools!" Nelino hissed. "This man kidnaps children and sells them into slavery."

"Then we will arrest him so he can stand trial," Hector answered, drawing Finly's shuto from his belt and igniting it. Finly nodded and followed suite.

Nelino shook off the reply, "He has been arrested three times. And each time, his trials have been dismissed due to technicalities."

Hector eyed the crumpled man in the corner. Somehow he sensed the truth in the thief's words. Few lifeforms in the galaxy were lower than slavers, but he could not afford to get distracted from the task at hand. "Hand over the lightsaber that you stole and we will make sure both of you get what you deserve."

Nelino shook his head, crouched, and made a Force powered leap to the roof of the building next to the bar. Hector and Finly were both impressed, but quickly made their own leaps.

Landing on the roof, both Jedi crouched into fighting positions. Nelino was crouched in a similar position with Hector's lit lightsaber in his hand.

Hector and Finly gave each other a glance, extended their hands and jointly pulled at the saber through the Force. Nelino struggled to maintain his grip, but soon the saber was ripped from his grasp and flying through the air back to its owner. It flipped in the air, the hilt landing in Hector's hand and the blade pointed towards the thief. Hector had only practiced fighting with two blades a couple of times and had no real experience with it. He wondered how much of an advantage the shuto would be.

"Always good to have back-up, huh, 'Jedi'," Nelino grinned.

"Make this easy and come quietly," Finly urged.

Nelino shook his head, "You have no idea who you are dealing with do you?" With that, Nelino produced his own lightsaber from his coat, igniting a yellow blade.

The jaws of both Jedi dropped. The only yellow lightsabers either of them had seen were the double bladed sabers carried by the Temple Guards and in very old holos (mostly recreations) of legends from the ancient Jedi. "Who and what are you?" Finly demanded adjusting his footing in preparation for battle.

"One would think a true Jedi would ask such questions before reaching for his saber," Nelino countered. "I owe you no explanations."

"You are outnumbered," Hector insisted, "surrender and come with us."

"Not likely, 'Jedi'," with that, Nelino charged Finly and Hector. He gave a quick block to all three blades and made a flip over their heads, descending back into the alley below.

"Poodoo," Finly mumbled as they both charged to the edge of the roof. They looked down into their worst fear. "The thief was gone and his would-be-choking victim now had a severed head.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The pair left instructions for the local authorities to contact them immediately if they found any trace of the mystery man. Within an hour, Finly's shuttle was out of the planet's atmosphere and beginning its jump into hyperspace with both Jedi aboard.

"That's crazy," Iesha's image commented on their very brief report. "Wait, I thought Sith carried red lightsabers?"

"I'm sure true Sith artifacts are hard to come by. Who cares about the color of his saber? What else could he be? Even if he turns out not to be a Sith, he is very dangerous and clearly not one of us," Finly defended.

"I just sent my detailed report," Hector added. "Can you forward it to Numa and the Council?"

"Of course," Iesha still struggled for words. The Sith? It seemed impossible. "Are you guys really sure about this?"

"That's your former Master talking," Finly chided. "This is too dangerous not to be followed up on. The simplest explanation is usually right. If there was a rogue Jedi running around…..I mean…..besides Granger….. we would have heard about him. He's a Sith, plain and simple."

"I guess…." Iesha thought of her master. "It's just…unbelievable."

Hector nodded, "All the more reason for us to be ready."

Iesha nodded in reply, "Iesha out."

The padawan pulled Hector's report on her datapad. She paused after just a few words. It was every young Jedi's worst fear and dream come true to encounter a Sith. _If this is true…._ The padawan wondered if she should even read the report and not just forward it directly to the Council.

She was still pondering her best course of action when the signal for another transmission sounded. Iesha glanced at the time. _Almost missed Myriam's froshin' check-in_.

Myriam's hologram appeared. The two exchanged the usual greetings then Myriam went into her report. It took her a minute to notice that the padawan seemed distracted. "Is something wrong?"

"Ahhhhh…..maybe….." Iesha stammered.

After an extended silence, Myriam spoke up again, "Well, what is it?"

"I just got a report from Hector and Finly. They think they have encountered a…" Iesha broke off her sentence. She had not even alerted the Council yet and this was sensitive information, but maybe advice from a more seasoned Jedi was also in order.

"A what?" Myriam was getting impatient.

"Sith," Iesha forced the word between her lips.

"Ridiculous," Myriam huffed. "Finly sees Sith under every rock."

"I know," Iesha conceded, "but this seems legit."

"Would you mind sending me their report?" Myriam raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I haven't even sent it to the Council yet. Should have done that first thing."

"Padawan," there was reason and authority in Myiam's voice. "If this turns out to be a real Sith, who do you think the Council will send to go after him?"

"Well Master Yoda, of course," Iesha answered without hesitation. Then her eyes met Myriam's, "But I guess you are just a bit closer." She let out a sigh, then hit the send button on her datapad.

"Thank you," Myriam nodded and began to read the report immediately. "Interesting….."

"I know," Iesha agreed. "Trained Force user, yellow lightsaber, it's insane to think…"

Myriam glanced up from the report, "Yellow lightsaber? I don't see a mention of any color in here."

"Guess it wasn't an important enough detail," Iesha shrugged, "but that's what they said it was."

"Are you positive?" Myriam's voice was very firm.

"Yeah," Iesha confirmed.

Myriam rolled her eyes and let out a long sigh, "Have you talked to Master Granger about this?"

"Not yet," Iesha answered without thinking, then quickly realized what she was saying, "I mean….. Granger? Why would I talk to that traitor?"

Myriam rolled her eyes again, "Right. Look, I'll send my update and we can finish this transmission later. There's something I need to do. Myriam out."

Now it was Myriam's turn to ponder her next move. As soon as Granger was "removed" from the Order and the team was dispersed across the Outer Rim, Yoda contacted his former padawan with the details of a very secure transmission channel. Although Yoda did not publicly disagree with the Council's handling of Granger, he firmly believed that Jedi were not meant to stand alone. Although he was sure that a seasoned Jedi like Granger could handle such an assignment, Yoda felt it important to provide a backchannel of communication should the need arise. Or if Granger just plain needed a confidant or even a friend. Myriam considered Yoda's trust in her to be an honor, but she had hesitated to reach out to her undercover team leader. It seemed that it was now unavoidable.

Granger was sitting in the floor of his quarters meditating when he heard the transmission signal. It was an unusual channel. Secured as normal, but one that would only come from someone on the Council. Granger straigtened his robes before he answered. "Greetings Master," he was startled to see Myriam's image appear before him.

"I didn't realize you were now on the Jedi Council," Granger grinned.

Myriam stifled a chuckle. "Master Yoda provided this channel to me. He felt you may need a backchannel at some point. I should have reached out sooner. I do apologize for the delay."

Granger grinned again. Among the many things that could be said of Yoda, is that he cares about people. "It is good to see you again and now I can give you the belated thanks for assisting Tristan a few months ago. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Myriam nodded, "Urgent business, I'm afraid." She paused to let the warning sink in. "Hector and Finly are on their way to Coruscant to report to the Council that they have encountered….a Sith."

Granger shifted uncomfortably. "Alright. I suppose they have their reasons and they should report such a matter straight to the Council."

"This Sith carried a yellow lightsaber. I'm forwarding the detailed report to you now," Myriam continued.

"Yellow," Granger stated. "And you know what that means?"

"Yes," Myriam confirmed.

Granger shifted again. "It seems you know many things that other Jedi are not privy to."

Myriam grinned, "I have many talents. Master Voudon recruited me into the Order as a youngling. He has wanted me under his wing ever since."

"Voudon," Granger repeated. "I must confess, I am not a fan."

"Don't think Mater Yoda is either, but….."

"He sits on the Jedi Council," Granger completed the thought. The Jedi Master pondered his next move. "Thank you. I will handle this from here."

"I figured you would. Myriam out."

 **XXXXXXXXXXX**

Hector had rarely faced the Jedi Council since his knighthood. He glanced around the semi-circle of the most seasoned masters in the Jedi Order. Most were there in person. A few like, Yoda were in holographic projections, too busy fighting whatever evil was threatening the galaxy at that moment to be there in person. These were arguably the wisest beings in the entire galaxy and very soon the Sith would have their full, collective attention. As most people who stood in Hector's spot in recent centuries, his eyes frequently drifted towards Yoda's hologram. The small, long-eared creature silently stroked his chin as he listened to Finly conclude their report.

"….and he was gone after dispatching the suspect. We sent as many details as possible to the local authorities, then were on our way here."

"Thank you, Jedi," Master Oldofo smiled and nodded warmly. "What questions or suggestions does the Council have?"

Master Voudon stirred in his seat and would have suggested that the Council discuss the matter in private when the door to the chamber opened. Granger strolled confidently into the chamber with two Temple Guards in tow. "We apologize Masters," one of the guards spoke up. "but he had proper clearance."

Oo'looku rose from his seat as Hector and Finly's jaws dropped. "What are you doing here?"

Granger ignored his senior, then directed a question at Finly, "What color was your 'Sith's' lightsaber?" Granger then turned his hard gaze to Voudon.

Finly's eyes darted from Granger to Hector to the guards to Oo'looku and back. "Well, yellow….."

Oo'looku seemed to seethe, but lost his determination and took his seat. The entire Council's attention was now on Voudon. "Were you aware of this?" Tarayzin now spoke up.

"It was reported to me, but I did not know of these Jedi's interpretation of the facts until I read their report shortly before their arrival," Voudon tried not to sound defensive. "Jedi Nelino is aware that he was a bit….. overzealous, but I assure you he is dedicated to the Jedi Code."

Finly and Hector eyed each other. They both felt like they were out of some loop. Finly glanced at Granger before speaking up. It seemed they were out of more than one loop. "What's the significance of the color?"

Granger answered, "What you encountered was no Sith, but a Jedi Sentinel."

Again, Finly and Hector were taken aback and beneath their helmets so were the Temple Guards. "I did not even realize that Sentinels still existed."

"Their continued existence is very sensitive information," Oldofo warned.

"And highly classified," Voudon added, then directed his attention back to Granger. "And you have endangered your own very sensitive and classified assignment by coming here today."

"Indeed I have," Granger was unwavering. "And this is the second time that one of your agents has distracted Jedi Hector from his mission….."

"Are you accusing me of interfering? I'm afraid I need to inquire as to the source of your information. You should not even be here," Voudon attempted to redirect the now murmuring Council.

Granger grinned, "I suppose we both have friends in strategic locations." Granger chanced a split second of eye contact with Master Yoda, who gave a slight nod in response and could not hide his warm smile.

"Enough of this," Tarayzin interrupted. "We all have other matters to attend to."

"We do, in fact," Oldofo's voice restored order. "Jedi you acted appropriately and we thank you for your service. Now please leave us to discuss this as a Council."

Granger, Hector, Finly, and the guards each gave a nodding bow and existed the chamber. In the hallway, Hector was the first to speak. "Master, it is good to see you again. And I'm glad that you are still one of us."

"And that you still have our backs," Finly added, "That could have been much more embarrassing than it was."

Granger smiled and patted both of his comrades' shoulders. "I will always be around if and when you need me. And yes, it is very good to see you both again. Forgive me for rushing off, but it is a long flight back to Markuria."

With Granger gone, Hector and Finly stood in silence for a moment. "Well, that was awkward." Hector offered as they made their way to their own shuttle.

"Indeed," was Finly only response. "Sentinels, wow."

"So this….. Nelino. He's one of us," Hector still needed confirmation.

Finly shrugged, "So it would seem. I need to update my logs….."

The pair reached the ship. The sun was setting and Hector paused to look out over the horizon. "'Sensitive and highly classified'. I wonder what else is out there that we have no idea about?"


	8. Chapter 8: All in the Family

**Family**

" _Wake up, you can't sleep all morning," Evelyn whispered gently into the young Jedi's ear._

 _Granger rubbed his eyes and slowly lifted his head. "What time is it?"_

" _We're due in the Meeting Hall in 20 minutes," Evelyn was nearly fully dressed. She pulled on her outer robe and attached her lightsaber to her belt as Granger sat up on the edge of the bed._

 _He pulled on his trousers, then rose and began stretching the stiffness out of his joints and muscles. "Couldn't you have woken me sooner?"_

 _Evelyn gently grinned and extended a steaming mug, "I made us some caf. Besides I enjoy watching you sleep."_

" _Granger grinned as he accepted the mug. He took a light sip, but it slightly burned his tongue. He sat the mug on the nightstand and finished getting dressed. A few minutes later, he reached for the mug again, chugged the caf, and after a few deep breaths, felt fully awake. As the pair headed towards the door to the hallway, Granger sighed, "This has to be the most boring assignment in the history of the Jedi Order."_

" _Oh, I don't know about that," Evelyn glanced back at the bed before the door closed behind them. "It has its perks. Besides," she added as they both paused to look out of the glass wall that lined the corridor, revealing the beautiful Alderaanian landscape, "you're home."k_

" _The Jedi Temple is my home," Granger corrected. "This is not it."_

 _ **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

The captains who worked directly for Tristan were gathered around his office as usual. Each reported what their crews had been up to since the last meeting and some received special instructions or new assignments from the Underboss. Granger stood behind Tristan as he sat at his desk, just over his right shoulder. It was the same position that Tristan himself stood in when he attended Vespuccio's meetings. Standing in that position, Tristan commanded fear and respect. It was difficult for most of the gang to tell who they feared more, the Boss or Tristan. The two complimented each other. Their reputations were nearly inseparable. If you feared what Vespuccio would do to you, it was because you knew that it would be Tristan who was coming for you. If you feared Tristan it was because you knew Vespuccio had the power to send him after you. They had operated that way since they were very young. Vespuccio was the one who's family was connected and had the pull. They put him in a position to lead. Tristan was just some street kid, but a street kid who had been fortunate enough to make a well-connected friend. He started as an enforcer, but quickly became _the_ enforcer in Vespuccio crew. When the elder Vespuccio died and the son took over, Tristan became the most feared man in the Outer Rim. As a reward for his loyalty and dedication, Vespuccio promoted his most trusted friend to the rank of Underboss. Now he could command the family in Vespuccio's name. Some could argue that he was even more powerful than the Boss himself. They could argue that, but no one did, because if they dared to, Tristan would be even angrier than the Boss. At one time that meant a visit from Tristan as the enforcer, but there was a new enforcer on the rise, who seemed every bit as fierce as Tristan. This was the position, in which Granger now stood.

"Well," Tristan began to wrap up the meeting, "I believe that's all, get the hell outta…"

The door to the office slid open and Vespuccio strode through it. Everyone, including Tristan, jumped to their feet. "No boys, sit, sit, sit. Pretend like I'm not here."

"Actually Boss, we were just wrapping up," Tristan replied as his captains, began to file out of the office. "What can I do for you?" Tristan gestured for the Boss to take his own seat behind the desk. Vespuccio waved off the gesture and sat at one of the couches in the center of the room, motioning with his hand for his friend to join him on the other couch.

Normally, Granger hung around for Tristan's meetings, unless dismissed by his superior, but Vespuccio got special treatment. "I'll be outside," Granger informed Tristan as he headed towards the door.

Tristan's nod was interrupted when Vespuccio spoke up, "No stay, this concerns you actually, my ex-Jedi."

Tristan stirred uncomfortably at Vespuccio's use of the term " _my_ ex-Jedi". Everything that was Tristan's was by extension the Boss's, but Granger had been unofficially given the title, "Tristan's Jedi". It never crossed his mind until that moment that Granger was in fact "Vespuccio's Jedi". The discomfort would have passed quickly had it not been for the Boss's unusual visit.

"I need to borrow our friend, here," Vespuccio directed his comment to Tristan, but patted Granger's knee as he took a seat on the couches. "I have a very sensitive job for him."

In nearly a decade, Vespuccio had run everything by Tristan before dishing it out to someone else. That was the Underboss's role. He was the voice and right hand of the Boss. He lifted the burden off of the Boss's shoulders. No one heard from or talked to the Boss unless they went through Tristan. Everything the Boss knew, Tristan knew. Vespuccio never gave a direct order to anyone, unless it gave him pleasure to do so and even then, Tristan knew the assignment first. "Sensitive, you say?"

"That's right," Vespuccio smiled warmly. "We need a little house cleaning done. One of our captains, hasn't been kicking up his whole share."

"Is that right?" Tristan raised an eyebrow. "We're on it just give us the name."

Vespuccio grinned again, not taking his eyes off Granger. "You need deniability and one of the perks of being the Underboss is getting to relax a little. Our friend here will handle it for you," then the Boss's voice and attention were focused on the Jedi. "Come by my office tonight and get the details."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 _Granger, Evelyn, and the other Jedi had been assigned to guard the high Republic officials who were attending the trade summit on Alderaan. It was monotonous work. Usually, Granger's day amounted to standing around, listening to bureaucrats drone on about why they deserved a larger take from whatever agreement was being renegotiated. Alderaan had been selected as the venue because of its reputation as treating those of the working class with fairness. Although that reputation was being challenged by protestors since the first day of the summit. It seemed not everyone on Granger's birth planet was thrilled with their position in life._

 _In the corridor, outside of the meeting hall, Granger's eyes searched for Evelyn. At least he had something to look forward to while he was stuck here. Their eyes met and the two young Jedi made their way towards each other, before either could speak, a voice chimed in from behind Granger. "Excuse me, Master Jedi?"_

" _Yes," Granger turned to face a slightly younger man. The other paused. His eyes searching as though he were staring at something that he could not believe he was seeing._

" _Iryk," the other man barely managed to get the whisper out of his mouth._

 _Granger was taken aback. He had not been called by his first name since he was a youngling. "Do I know you?"_

" _My name's Yassin. Yassin Granger. I'm your brother," the younger man smiled broadly and stretched out his arms for a hug. "We heard that you were here. I can't believe my eyes. You look so much like, Papa."_

 _Granger was shaken. Jedi were not forbidden from staying in touch with their families, but Granger had never even attempted to reach out to them. He knew that he was born on Alderaan and figured that he had relatives somewhere, but never felt the desire to search them out. Evelyn raised her hand to her mouth and choked back tears._

" _Our family is having dinner soon. You must join us," Yassin turned his eyes to Evelyn. "Your girlfriend is also welcome."_

" _She's not my…" Granger was not sure this was the time to explain the Jedi Code. He was unsure how to respond to the invitation. "I'm sorry, we have duties to attend to….."_

 _Evelyn rushed to grab her comrade by the arm. "But nothing that will take too long. We would be delighted to join the family for a meal." She nudged Granger in his back. This was too good of an opportunity for either of them to pass up._

 _Granger and Evelyn followed Yassin to the Granger family home. Granger had no memory of the place. He was not even sure if this was where the family had lived when the Jedi showed up to take him to the temple. He had barely been a toddler when he left Alderaan. This was his first time to return._

 _Yassin entered the empty den of the humble house. "Mama!" the younger Granger yelled excitedly. A woman not much older than Granger and two smaller children entered first. The young woman thrust her hands to her mouth, then rushed the Jedi embracing him tightly._

" _Iryk," the strange woman whispered in his ear. "I used to read to you in your crib." She stepped back still grasping his shoulders and searching into his eyes for trace of recognition. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"_

 _Granger felt a twinge of guilt, "I am sorry. I was very young when I left….."_

" _I know. It's OK. I am your sister, Linel. And these," the two children approached, "are your nieces, Gisel and Ilena."_

" _Hello there," Granger crouched with a sincere smile to great the girls. The two girls giggled and attempted to hide one behind the other._

" _Iryk," a gentle voice came from the corner of the room. Granger rose and his eyes met an older woman, guided by Yassin. Granger did not need to be told that this was his mother. His awkwardness gave way to joy as he rushed to meet her. They held a long embrace for what seemed to be ages. "I can't believe that you are here," the woman's eyes filled with tears as she hugged the son she had not seen since shortly after she gave birth to him._

" _Me either," Granger choked back his own tears. He still felt awkward, but the unexpected reunion had filled him with more joy than he could have imagined._

 _Soon the entire family was around the dinner table. One seat was left empty and everyone except the young girls merely nibbled at the food on their plates as though they were waiting for someone. Granger described his life growing up in the Jedi Temple. The family regaled him with mostly humorous stories of the years since he had left. Granger could not fight the feeling that someone was still missing. He gestured towards the empty seat. "Are we waiting for Papa?"_

 _The group suddenly went silent. "No, that space is for my husband, Nehemia," Linel explained. She glanced around nervously, "Papa has been dead for several years now."_

 _Despite having no recollection of his father, the news hit Granger like a heavy load. "I am sorry to hear that," was all he could manage._

 _His mother spoke up, "We have had years to adjust. We should have told you earlier or contacted you when it happened," She paused as though in thought. "Do the Jedi allow families to stay in contact?"_

 _Granger glanced at Evelyn. "It is not encouraged, but not forbidden either. Each Jedi is allowed to make his or her own decision, when the time is right. I just never…. I mean I should have….."_

 _The discussion was interrupted by a new visitor entering the dining room. "Hello everyone!" A slightly older man dressed in the well-used clothes of a laborer entered the room._

 _The young girls jumped from their seats and rushed screaming to the new arrival. "Papa!" they screamed each hugging a separate leg as they approached him._

 _The entire table rose as Linel also greeted the visitor with a kiss on the cheek. "Iryk, this is my husband, Nehemia._

 _Granger approached his brother-in-law and shook his hand with a nod. "A pleasure."_

" _The pleasure is mine," Nehemia returned the greeting. "It's not every day the likes of us get to rub elbows with a Jedi."_

 _Nehemia exchanged greetings with his mother-in-law and Evelyn and soon the family was fully engaged with dinner. "So you are here for the summit, then?" Nehemia continued the conversation._

" _Yes," Evelyn spoke this time. "Seems to be an incredible opportunity for the galaxy."_

 _Nehemia and Yassin exchanged glances. "Perhaps for the Organas and the Elder classes of the galaxies, but not for the likes of us, eh my boy?" Nehemia prodded and chuckled at Yassin._

" _Yes," Yassin grimaced at the laughter, "The free trade negotiation will line the pockets of the wealthy, but will take valuable jobs from local working classes. Not just on Alderaan, but on every planet involved."_

" _So that's what the protests are about?" Evelyn looked at Granger who leaned back in contemplation._

" _For all the good it will do," Linel answered._

" _Surely someone will pay attention?" Granger inquired._

" _Not likely," Yassin explained. "Although it would be wise. Some of the groups are beginning to radicalize….."_

" _Oh, you hush that talk," their mother brought a temporary silence to the table. "Nothing like that would happen here. Those friends of yours are all talk and you should stay away from them and focus on your studies before they get you into trouble."_

" _Eh," Nehemia offered again, "School-boy's friends are harmless. Just a lot of university discussion."_

" _Maybe so," Yassin conceded, "but someday, those who are ignored will get tired of not being heard and make a noise that cannot be overlooked."_

 _ **XXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

Vespuccio's door signaled that someone was outside. "Come," the crimeboss's voice commanded. Granger entered the office that he had rarely been inside. The Boss rose to his feet and rounded his giant desk. He took a seat on the cushioned couch and motioned for the Jedi to do the same, "Yes, my friend. Come. Sit. Sit." Granger did as he was instructed. "I'm sure you are wondering why I summoned you directly."

Granger grinned, "Tristan seems to think it is Groduol who is having problems with his share."

Vespuccio grinned this time, "One day I will learn that I can't keep anything from him." The Boss poured two glasses of local brandy, offering one to the Jedi. "But perhaps together we can," he smiled afresh. "Someone else will handle that issue. I have something else for you."

"Alright," Granger leaned in expectantly.

Vespuccio took a deep breath, "I want you to take care of Triden for me."

Confusion spread across Granger's face. "I did not realize that he had become a problem. Triden is Tristan's most trusted underling."

"He was," the Boss leaned in, "Until you came along."

Granger blew off the compliment. "Even still, he is a valuable asset and trusted friend….."

"Do you trust me?" Vesspuccio leaned back in his seat.

"Of course, Boss," Granger decided it was wiser to tread carefully.

"Then do as I ask," the Boss waved his hand as to settle the matter. "And I must insist, this stays between us. No one, especially our friend Tristan can know what has transpired here tonight."

Although gaining Vespuccio's trust was a breakthrough in his mission, Granger knew he was plodding into dangerous territory. "Of course, Boss. As you wish."

Vespuccio raised his glass in a toast. "Alright then. To our new friendship."

A few hours later, Granger was perched on the ledge of the roof above Tristan's flat. He stared down at his 'friend' in quiet contemplation. Tristan stood on his balcony staring at the city below seemingly in the same state of mind. Why was Vespuccio entrusting him with this task? And more so, why was the Boss keeping this from Tristan. His mission would seem to dictate that he work his way as close to the top as possible and going behind Tristan's back to score points with the Boss would seem to go along with that. However, becoming embroiled in a civil war within the Family could undermine that purpose. And that was the only real conclusion that he could draw. There was no apparent reason for Vespuccio to undermine Tristan. This was a test. A test of Granger. The only remaining question was, is this a test cooked up by Vespuccio alone or by the Boss and the Underboss to identify the true loyalties of "their" Jedi.

Although Granger was nearly silent as he dropped to the balcony, Tristan sensed his presence immediately. Rarely did the Jedi slip in or out without his sensing it, but there were times that he did. Unfortunately, the Underboss had to admit to himself that he could only sense Granger coming and going when Granger wanted him to sense it. "How was your meeting?"

"Interesting," Granger played it safe.

"And the Groduol matter is being handled by Ocir, right?" Tristan set the bottle he was drinking from on the ledge of the balcony and turned to face his trusted enforcer.

"Well, not by me is all I know," Granger grinned at Tristan's knowledge. "Did not know it was Ocir. Why him?"

Tristan pushed back the brim of his hat. "That's a separate question. And I assume that you've been tasked with something else." Tristan took Granger's silence as confirmation. "Don't tell me. He's testing you."

"I figured," Granger grinned. Tristan's advice reassured him that this test was from the boss alone and not both of them.

"It's not me, is it?" Tristan's eyes met Granger's.

"Of course not," Granger was sincerely taken aback. Although new insight rushed into his mind. If Vespuccio were to make a move against Tristan, taking out one loyal servant and insuring that Granger would land on his side was a brilliant move.

"But something doesn't sit right with you about this? I can tell. Guess that's your Force talking to me,"

Granger swallowed hard. "You know I'm loyal to you right? You're the one that brought me here, gave me a new home. I owe you."

"I would like to think so," Tristan held his stare.

"But your loyalty to the Boss is even deeper. I betray him and you can leverage it against me. If you wanted," Granger continued to reason aloud.

"All very true," Tristan took a fresh swig of the bottle.

Granger could sense Tristan's sincerity. And if a civil war was inevitable, then Granger would need an ally no matter which side he fell on. "It's Triden."

Tristan slumped against the ledge of the balcony. "Triden?" It made no sense. "Why?"

"He did not say. Just asked me to trust him," Granger stated. "Perhaps he is testing us both."

"It reads like a power play. Taking out one of my strongest soldiers and pulling the other to himself," Tristan reasoned. "But it makes no sense."

"Everything good between the two of you?" Granger asked.

"It would seem not…." Tristan mumbled.

"Maybe we're reading too much into this. Maybe Triden is up to something we do not know about and the Boss wants to handle it because he knows you two are so close?" Granger searched for another reason.

"But why send you? Unless he wants to read you?" Tristan countered.

The two stood in silence for a long moment. "So what's our play?"

Tristan locked eyes with the Jedi again. "You play his game for as long as he needs. I'll find out what I can."

"Think that will be enough? Do you need to act faster…" Granger could not finish his sentence.

"I shouldn't have to remind you that this is the Boss we are speaking of. And my best friend….." Tristan was as serious as Granger had seen him.

"And if he sends one of us after the other?" Granger raised an eyebrow.

"Well, let's hope we're wrong, but when that day comes….. we just have to continue to trust each other," Tristan extended his hand.

Granger accepted it for the shake. "I will not be the one to betray you." Tristan turned back to the balcony only briefly to lift his bottler to his lips. When he turned back to face Granger, the Jedi was gone. This time he had not sensed it. "Maybe it's the whiskey." The Underboss mumbled into the night air.

 **XXXXXXXXXX**

 _The summit and the protests continued for several days. Each evening, Granger and Evelyn had dinner with the family. The discussions often turned to the protests and/or galactic politics. Yassin had grown increasingly frustrated and at times the conversation grew heated. The younger Granger was antagonistic towards the Alderaanian government, but his more radical thoughts were reined in by Nehemia. The unofficial elder of the Granger clan was resolutely focused on the welfare of his family and felt that Yassin should be the same. The discussions made Granger uncomfortable, but he felt it best to remain neutral. Certainly, he understood the perspectives of both men, but it was neither his nor the Jedi's place to become embroiled in local matters._

 _Granger kept a close eye on the protestors. Occasionally, through a passing window, he spotted his brother in the crowd. He wished this was not the case, but had to hold to his duties. In the final days of the summit, security became noticeably tighter as the protests became noticeably rowdy. It was one of these days in the middle of a meeting in which Granger was present that a royal security guard approached Granger._

" _Master Jedi," the guard whispered. "You have a visitor."_

 _Granger glanced around the room. He would be grateful for the change of pace, but did not want to be distracted. He doubted that there would be anything amiss in his absence and gave a nod of affirmation. The guard guided the Jedi to a secure area. He was surprised to see his brother-in-law enter the room. "Nehemia," Granger rose in greeting._

 _Nehemia seemed bothered, but still enough of his warm self. "Iryk," Nehemia smiled as he shook the Jedi's hand. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I am concerned for our boy."_

" _Yassin?" Granger raised an eyebrow. "I've seen him in some of the crowds…"_

" _Yes," Nehemia fidgeted. Perhaps he was uncomfortable in the royal palace. "And some of his associates are increasingly frustrated. I'm afraid they may try something rash. I don't think either of us want to see him involved. There have been rumors….."_

 _Granger broke in, "If you know of a specific threat, I must insist that you tell me, but I'm afraid I am not authorized to conduct an investigation….."_

 _Nehemia sighed. "I was just hoping you could speak with the lad. Maybe connect him with someone the unruly ones could speak with. Pacify them so to speak."_

 _Granger scratched his chin. "I'm not sure who that would be. I'm not here to be political."_

 _Nehemia frowned. "This is our family," the elder man emphasized. "I realize that you have only recently reconnected with us, but they are all that matter to me. I was hoping that you understood that."_

" _I do," Granger conceded. "but I'm not in a position to…"_

" _I understand," Nehemia turned to the door. "I'm sorry to take your time. See you at dinner?"_

" _Of course," Granger replied as the working man departed._

 **XXXXXXXXXXXX**

Tristan breathed deeply. This was possibly the first time since his first kill that he was unsure he could go through with the act. Never before had he moved against someone who meant so much to him, but Vespuccio would be an even more difficult target to hit. Perhaps his actions tonight would do just that. Plus, if Vespuccio were making a move against him, there was only one logical person who may know about it.

The crime Family that now bore the name Vespuccio was ancient. Vespuccio sat in the position once occupied, but his great- grandfather. Vespuccio became the Boss when his own father died. The Boss was fairly young when he took over so to legitimize his power, he kept most of his father's leadership in place. Tristan was Vespuccio's best friend and most trusted underling. When the older Underboss died, there was no question that Tristan was next in line. In the power structure of the upper echelon, the only person whose authority rivaled the Underboss was the Consigliere. And Vespuccio had kept his father's Consigliere. If Tristan was like a brother to Vespuccio, then the Old Man was like an uncle. And at least an uncle, if not a father, to Tristan.

"Come my boy, come in," the Old Man invited the Underboss to his balcony. "The sun is setting and the moon will rise soon. Have tea with me."

"Yes sir," Tristan grinned following him to the balcony. Not long after the death of Vespuccio's father, there had been some unrest within the Family. Vespuccio and the Old Man came out on top, but the events had taken their toll. The Old Man had become hooked on spice. He finally kicked the habit a few years ago, and likewise gave up alcohol. Hence the invitation for tea.

"It has been too long, my boy," the Old Man's seriousness put Tristan on his guard. "What have you been up to."

"Oh," Tristan grinned, "Just taking care of the Family, same as always."

"Same as always," the Old Man jostled his tea.

"What is it?" Tristan leaned in.

"I know why you are here," the Old Man coughed as he spoke. "I told him he was being foolish…..paranoid."

"Who?" Tristan asked.

The Old Man's eyes met the Underboss's, "You already know. He is no longer your friend."

"Why? It makes no sense. I've been nothing, but loyal," Tristan nearly stammered.

"You two have been nearly inseparable, even tighter than most Bosses and Underbosses. He has always wanted nothing, but to be his own man. The two of you are like a package deal. Your reputations are intertwined in such a way that even your reputations rely on one another. Some of the other capos, jealous of your position, got in his ear. It's that plain and simple."

"But I have his back," Tristan emphasized the words. "I have no ambitions to be the Boss. Surely, he knows that. He weakens his own position by taking me out."

"Reputation is a strange thing. Men will hurt themselves to better it," the Old Man sighed. "You have to be careful."

"I am," Tristan sighed. "How long have you known?"

"He started making noise about it just before we lost Syllian. We both knew he meant nothing, that he was just venting, but then Ocir got his ear. And not long after, that Jedi of yours showed up….."

"Whose idea was Triden?" Tristan knew the answer, but asked anyway.

"Mine. Since he was worried about your position, I told him he should weaken your position without weakening his own," the Old Man looked down at his tea. "And using the Jedi reassures him that he is in charge. I'm sorry."

"It's the smart move," Tristan confessed.

"And you do not want to be the Boss so taking him out will do you no good."

Tristan stared at the Old Man, "So I have to send him a message."

"It's the smart move," the Old Man confessed.

Tristan produced a spice needle from his pocket. The Old Man recognized it immediately and his mouth began to water although he could see the amount within the glass. In his heyday, after he had built a tolerance, the amount would be about right, but it had been years since he had even had a drop. "It really should be you," the Old Man explained as Tristan rose and began to roll back his sleeve. "You are the smartest. You will make a good Boss." The Old Man felt the needle pierce his skin, followed by a rush of warmth, up his arm and through his body. Soon the warm embrace would take his brain as well. The Old Man struggled to his feet and made his way to the balcony. A thin line of red highlighted the horizon and the moon was already bright and yellow above. He closed his eyes and gripped the ledge of the balcony. "I ain't gonna do it for you."

"I know," Tristan gritted his teeth and clinched his fists. He closed his eyes. A shove from the Force burst out from him, slamming the Old Man in the back and sending him over the rail. "I'm sorry."

 **XXXXXXXXXXX**

 _Yassin and his friends made their way carefully down the corridor. They had a solid plan, but Yassin's conscience nagged at him. If everything went right, there would only be a lot of noise, no casualties, but he could not escape the question: How did it come to this? Surely the protests should have been enough, but the summit continued undeterred. He reached out to his Jedi-brother, but that was also fruitless. There was nothing left to do, but something rash. There was no way they would not be caught. What would his mother think of him after this?_

" _This is the best spot," Terrian whispered to his associates. They each dropped their packs and began setting up the device. Yassin had been trusted with the detonator although he would not be the one to activate it. "We're all set," their unofficial leader narrated. "Let's get outta here."_

 _The boys spun around to find themselves facing Nehemia. "No," was all the older mine worker ordered. He noticed the detonator in Yassin's hands and slowly made his way towards him._

" _We're doing this for you!" Terrian tried to keep his voice at a whisper. "The Elders will hear the plight of the workers after this!"_

" _I said, 'No'," Nehemia was close enough to reach the detonator now. Terrian jumped for it, but Nehemia was the first to pull it from Yassin's loose grip._

" _Now get the hell outta….." Nehemia's orders were broken by a voice from behind._

" _All of you get your hands up!" the entire group turned to face a security guard with his blaster drawn._

 _Yassin's heart sank. Their intel had been wrong. This area was supposed to be empty even of guards, but of course security had tightened with the protests. Nehemia saved them from becoming murderers._

 _Nehemia saw the guard eye the detonator that was now in his hands. "Drop that and get your hands up!"_

 _Nehemia knew that if they were all arrested, the boys' lives were over. His too, just by association. Prison would be hard on them, but his family would suffer more. He thought of his girls. Maybe he could at least get Yassin out of this. "You're not gonna stop me!" Nehemia tried to sound like one of those mad villains that he had seen in holos as a kid. "And these boys aren't gonna stop me! No one will stop me!" He spun to face Yassin. From the guard's angle, it appeared that he was activating the device, but what Yassin saw was Nehemia, pulling the power source from the detonator._

 _The younger Granger's eyes doubled in size as the bolts from the guard's weapon pierced his brother-in-law. "No!" Yassin screamed._

" _Take care of my girls," Nehemiah managed before he slumped to his knees and then fell forward, the life gone from his body._

 _ **XXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

From the shadows, Granger watched Triden. Finally, they had reached the perfect spot. His crew had just finished unloading a ship. Soon, its cargo would be off to whatever black market it was bound for. As usual, Triden was the first on the scene and the last to leave. As the last of his crew wrapped up and left. A ship landed at a nearby pad. It seemed to be just another cargo ship handling its usual business. Whoever it was, the pilot would recognize that this was Markuria and know to mind his own business. Triden turned from the freshly landed ship to exit the platform. Granger was now standing between him and the exit. "Evening, Jedi. Tristan letting you make his rounds now? Let him know everything's fine….."

Granger raised his eyes to meet the man's that he considered a friend. "I am sorry." The Jedi's hand shot forward. Triden felt a pressure within his head and then the lights went out. His unconscious body dropped to the floor of the landing pad.

Two robed figures emerged from the nearby ship. "Good to see you, Master," Iesha felt as though she would burst with joy, but held her demeanor.

"You as well, my padawan," Granger grinned with pride as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Also happy to assist," Myriam spoke from beneath her hood, lifting one of the unconscious man's arms around her shoulders. Iesha moved under the other arm.

Granger handed a datapad to Iesha. "Get him back to Coruscant. This should be more than enough to keep him in prison. He probably will not flip, but if he does, that will be more than enough to make a move against Tristan and possibly even Vesspuccio himself.

"How will you explain his body not turning up?" Myriam inquired.

Granger sighed, "I've gotten pretty good at making bodies disappear. Go. Quickly. We cannot afford to be seen."

"Call us again if you need us, Master," Iesha muttered hoping for just one extra moment.

"Of course, I will. And may the Force be with you."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 _Yassin sat nervously, outside of the Royal offices. He had never been this deep into the palace before. His friends had been released the day before, cleared of all charges. The official story had been that a disgruntled mine worker attempted to plant a bomb to disrupt the summit. Yassin and his friends were merely some mischievous students who had wondered into a secure section. Luckily, they stumbled upon the would-be-bomber and according to the guard, were attempting to stop him. Of course, anyone who knew Nehemia, knew that this was not the case._

 _An official looking man, entered the waiting area, interrupting Yassin's thoughts. "Follow me," was all he uttered. The official led Yassin down a corridor and through a door into a lavish office._

 _Yassin immediately recognized the Queen of Alderaan seated behind the desk. He froze in his tracks. "Relax, young Granger," the Queen directed him to take a seat in front of her. Glancing around for the first time, Yassin saw his brother seated to the side of the room. The pair locked eyes for only a moment, but made no other gesture to each other. The room went dark as a giant screen lowered from the ceiling. Yassin recognized immediately the familiar images from the day of the attempted bombing began to play. When the security footage ended, the screen rose to the ceiling and the lights returned. "Only I and my top advisors have access to this footage. As you can see, it contradicts the official version of the story."_

 _Yassin's eyes filled with tears and he shook. He could look at neither his brother nor the queen. After a few moments, it was the Queen who broke the silence. "You and your friends are young and full of vision. It would do us politicians well to recall some of your enthusiasm. Therefore, I will not allow your brother-in-law's sacrifice to be in vain. Not only will you and your friends dodge a lengthy prison sentence, but I would like to offer you a job."_

 _Yassin raised an eyebrow. "A job?"_

" _Yes," the Queen smiled. "You will serve as an advisor. My staff and I would benefit from hearing the voice of the working class."_

" _I'm sure there are others more qualified," Yassin dropped his eyes again._

" _Perhaps," the Queen admitted. She then motioned to where the screen had appeared. "But none have paid the price that your own family has paid."_

 _Minutes later, Yassin and his brother were outside of the office, standing alone. "I suppose, I should thank you," Yassin did not lift his eyes from the floor._

" _I had nothing to do with this," Granger reassured. "The Queen did not find out we were brothers until after she made her decision."_

" _I see," Yassin mumbled. "Have you spoken to Mama or Linel?"_

" _Not since just after the….. incident…." Granger answered._

" _How are they?"_

" _Devastated, of course," Granger muttered coldly. "But they do look forward to your return."_

" _I'm not sure I can face them," Yassin was nearly in tears again._

" _You must face them," Granger instructed. "I'm sure their emotions will range at times, but they will come to understand that it was not your fault."_

" _Will you come with me?" Yassin seemed to plead._

 _Granger was tempted. He had found his family warm and receptive of him, but soon it would be time for him to leave. The Jedi were his real family and his duty was to them. "I'm afraid I cannot. This is a task that you must face alone."_

 _Yassin knew that his brother spoke the truth, if the man before him could be called "brother". The man that he had come to view as a brother had sacrificed himself for him. This stranger, although connected by blood, was no more than that, a stranger. Yassin extended his hand. "Very well. So long Iryk."_

 _Granger tried to shake Yassin's hand as warmly as possible. He was sincerely glad that the lad reached out to him, despite the tragedy that followed. "May the Force be with you."_

 **XXXXXXXXXXX**

Vespuccio sat in the dark behind his desk. The brandy he sipped did little to comfort him. His consul signaled an incoming call. "Yes?"

"It's done, Boss," Granger's voice came through the transmission.

"Excellent," Vesspuccio twirled the liquor in his glass. "There may be more coming soon. Keep this between us and you'll be fine." The Boss promptly ended the transmission.

Vespuccio stared into his glass and thought of the Old Man. _He knows_ , the Boss reasoned. That was the only reason to hit the Old Man the exact same night as Triden. They had sent each other messages, but neither had crossed a point that they could not turn back from. But who was Tristan to send a message to him? Tristan would be in no position except that Vespuccio put him there. Of course, it worked both ways, it was Tristan's fierceness that had like-wise boosted the Boss's standing. And that was why he had to make these moves. It was he, Vespuccio, that ruled this corner of the galaxy. There could be no contenders.

He pushed a button on the transmission consul again. Ocir's voice soon came across. "Yeah boss?"

"The Jedi's with us. Move things forward."

"As you wish," Ocir answered.


	9. Chapter 9: Pimp Daddy Jedi

**Pimp Daddy Jedi**

Finly stood on the landing platform waiting for his teammates to arrive. He already started getting into his character. The system under his watch had some unpronounceable local name, but to everyone in the civilized galaxy (and the not so civilized) it was known simply as the Edge. Although several systems in the Outer Rim claimed to be the farthest out that one could go, for the Edge this was the truth. There was not much Outer Rim left beyond this system. There was the Unknown Region and there was Wild Space, but that was about it. People came here for two reasons. Either they were on the run from authorities somewhere else or they were rich enough not to care about laws anywhere and wanted to live out their fantasies on one of the "pleasure moons". This was the business that brought his team here today. On Fantasy Moon, "well-respected" people of wealth within the Republic, came to live their sexual pleasures to the maximum. Sex-slaves abounded on the moon. Since its biggest clients came from Republic space, the Jedi were able to investigate.

Finly learned of these misdeeds in the course of another investigation. He contacted Numa and they cooked up this plan to catch one of the biggest spenders in the act and work their way into the slave trading networks. As the ship made its approach, he grinned at exchanges he imagined between Hannibal and Myriam.

The ramp lowered and an extremely well-dressed Hannibal descended ahead of their scantily clad female teammates. Hannibal's grin beamed even flashier than his clothes. "Finly, my boy! How ya been? Where's my palace?"

Finly immediately went into character. "I have everything prepared for you." He handed his "boss" a datapad. "This is where we will be staying and there is a list of potential clients as well."

Hannibal turned to flash a grin at his ladies. "We better get to the room and get some rest. You girls could be busy this weekend."

All three lowered their eyes, but Myriam chanced a glare at Hannibal to warn him to watch his mouth. He swallowed hard before clapping his hands together. "Let's get a move one. We got money to make."

Finly chanced a glance at his teammates. He did not find human women attractive, but he had to admit that it was difficult to take his eyes from Numa. Most Nautolans were not attractive to humans, but some, like Numa, were close enough to Twi'lek that she just might get some attention. He knew from Hannibal's comments that Myriam and Iesha were attractive enough that humans or beings looking for humans would be interested in them. Finly had never seen his teammates dressed in such a way to accentuate their bodies before, and he was sure that they hated it, but Finly had to admit that Numa was particularly difficult to turn away from.

In the room, Myriam slammed her small bag down to the floor as soon as the door slid shut. "I don't care what we are here to do, never take that tone with me again."

Iesha concurred. "I think you are enjoying this a bit too much."

Hannibal shrugged, "Just keeping up the appearances. Speaking of which…." He lowered his voice. "This room could be bugged we should keep it up…"

Finly interjected. "I thoroughly scanned the room. No bugs in here."

Numa made the final decision. "Still we are going to be watched closely. Don't get too comfortable in here."

Myriam continued to scan the room. She saw one side room and two couches. "Is there only one bed?"

"Well, yeah," Finly began. "Most of the pimps like to…..ummmm… you know…. Keep their girls in practice." He glanced at his clearly perturbed teammates. "Well, I uh, as the assistant, have my own separate room… I have some contacts to look for later…. I'll be going now."

As the nervous Sullustan exited, Hannibal was nearly bursting with excitement. He looked at Numa first, then the others, then the bedroom. "Well, we better get in there and keep up appearances…"

"I need whiskey. I'll be at the bar scoping things out," Myriam barged out of the room.

"I'll join you," Iesha followed her senior out of the room.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Numa finally spoke up. "Well, Jedi Hannibal," she headed for the bedroom. "We have appearances to think of."

Hannibal gulped hard and followed her.

 **XXXXXXXXXXX**

When Iesha found Myriam at the bar, she already had two empty shot glasses next to her. Iesha took the empty stool next to her teammate as the next glass was delivered. "You really shouldn't let Hannibal get to you….."

Myriam downed the shot and held up two fingers to the bartender. "He doesn't."

"Well," Iesha dug as two more glasses were delivered. "You've been here maybe five minutes and you are already three shots in so what is it about?"

Myriam slid one of the glasses towards the padawan and lifted the other. "Bad memories. Drink."

Iesha smelled the shot before she took it. She got half of it down before she gagged and slammed the half-glass back to the bar. Myriam almost cracked a smile. "You have to finish the shot if you are going to slam it down like that."

Through her coughs and watered eyes, Iesha tried to compose words. "This was not part of my training."

Myriam pushed the glass back towards Iesha. The bartender brought the next round and Myriam raised her glass. "Welcome to the real galaxy, padawan."

Iesha took a deep breath and took the second half of the shot. Her eyes opened wide, when it went down much easier and she almost enjoyed the flavor. "There. Does this make us friends? Can you call me by my name and not just padawan now?"

Myriam pouted her lips in brief contemplation. "Nah." The next round arrived. Myriam motioned at Iesha's remaining shot before taking her new one.

Iesha breathed deep and took the next one. It burned slightly, but left her with a warm feeling. "Do I at least get to know what this is about?"

For just a second, a deadly serious look crossed Myriam's face. "No." The senior Jedi then took her shot in one hand and extended the other to Iesha.

Iesha hesitated, "If it is such a big problem, shouldn't you be meditating or something?"

"We are."

"Well, alright," the padawan shrugged and threw back the shot, this time with almost as much grace as Myriam.

A couple of hours and several shots later, both Jedi were in much better spirits. They regaled each other mostly with humorous stories of their various adventures, thoughts about their teammates, their favorite system to visit, and other small-talk-type stories. They had attracted the attention of several bar patrons, but only one was persistent enough to not take "no" for an answer. "I said, we're off tonight," Myriam told the creature that she did not recognize as firmly as possible.

"Oh, everybody's on duty if the price is right. And trust me, my price is right," the creature reached out towards Myriam. Iesha did not hesitate. She began to Force choke the creature with a glare.

Myriam quickly sent a hand around where she thought the creature's neck should be to give the appearance that she was choking him with physical strength. She gave Iesha a warning glance. The padawan released her hold and turned back to the bar. Myriam lightly Force pushed the creature to the floor, but appeared to do so with her bare arm. "I said," she reiterated loud enough for the entire bar floor to hear, "we are off tonight." The bar paused for just a second to notice the exhibition, then almost a quickly, returned to its hustle and bustle.

"Perhaps we should go," Myriam whispered.

"Noooooooo," Iesha struggled. "We medicating… metamating….. meditating…"

Myriam chuckled. "Alright, one more round."

Iesha clumsily glanced around the bar, she motioned with her head back in the creature's direction. "So have ever….. you know….."

"What?" Myriam did not know what the padawan meant, but quickly read her awkwardly made faces. "Sex?"

"Yeah," Iesha held back a giggle.

"I don't want to talk about it," Myriam' seriousness returned.

"Well, alright," Iesha turned to stare at the bar as the next round arrived.

Myriam took a deep breath. She did not want to breach this topic, but it was not the padawan's fault. She took a deep breath. "So I take it you've never, then?"

"Never what?" Iesha turned to face her senior. Myriam rolled her eyes. "Oh," Iesha realized. "No."

Myriam studied the younger for a moment. "Not even with Granger?"

Iesha blushed and her eyes nearly burst from her face. "Of course not….."

"Don't be shocked," Myriam warned. "Some Masters consider it part of the training. And don't pretend that you don't want to."

"Was that part of yours?" Iesha seemed astonished.

Myriam gave the padawan a long stare. "You think I had sex with Master Yoda?"

Both Jedi burst into laughter. "Nevermind," Iesha could barely breathe.

When the laughter died, Myriam continued. "He does care for you, you know that, right?"

"Yoda?" Iesha was thrown off by the comment.

"No," Myriam sighed. "Granger."

"Well, I would think so," Iesha answered.

"No, I mean, more than you think….. I think," Myriam grinned.

"Whatever," Iesha reached for her shot hoping for a break in the conversation.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

As it turns out, thermal baths were not great for Sullustan skin. Finly learned this the hard way as he soaked in the warm water. Whatever it did for human and other creatures, he did not like how it softened his skin. Sullastans had adapted to living underground. Their skin was tough and conditioned to such an environment. Although he did not necessarily need this adaptation in the Jedi Temple, it was the natural state of his body that he was accustomed to.

He scanned the pools with his eyes and ears. He reached out with his senses and he adapted an earpiece that was synced to his datapad on his poolside table. In some fashion, he was aware of nearly everything happening in the pool area. He struck up several conversations with various creatures. They were all looking for girls either to buy or rent for a night. The business sickened him, but he reminded himself that by plunging to these depths, he would be shining the light of the Force into a very dark corner of the galaxy. He made mental notes of nearly everyone that he talked to, but no one seemed connected to the Republic target that they were hunting. He was nearly ready to give up on this approach when his datapad picked up a conversation. There was a big spender looking for "variety." Finly made his way near the group of men.

"There's nothing wrong with human girls," the man at the center of the conversation explained, "but Twi'leks are a bit cliched. I need to do something…..different."

"How about Nautolans?" Finly spoke up.

"Hmmmmm….." the man pursed his lips. "That's a possibility. What else you got?"

"Well," Finly moved closer and went deeper into his character. "The man I represent has access to a large variety. He just happens to be making his rounds here. He only brought a small sample though, one Nautolan and two humans." A sick knot formed in his stomach as he spoke of his teammates like merchandise. "Two of the most beautiful human girls you will ever lay your eyes on, I might add."

The man glanced around at his associates. "Never trust a Sullustan in a hot tub." The circle of men burst into laughter. "But what the hell, it's worth a look. Tell your man, I'll meet him at twilight at The Happy Mynock."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The room was silent and nearly dark except for the glow of Finly's datapad when Myriam entered with Iesha slung over her shoulder. "Were you two at it all night?" Finly was startled by their entrance. "And all day….." he added glancing at the time.

"We were…..training," Myriam plopped Iesha down to the other couch. The padawan's sleep was unfazed.

"So Iesha seems to be in no condition for the mission….." Finly stared at the unconscious padawan.

"Ah, the kid did well, let her sleep. I'm sure we can handle it. Did you make contact?" Myriam defended.

"Yeah. They want to meet in a couple of hours, but I seem to be the only one ready to go….."

Myriam reassured her comrade, "Just give me a few minutes to meditate and clear my head…. And a pot of caf….." she sniffed herself, "and a shower… and I'll be ready to go. Where are the others?"

Finly sighed, "Haven't seen them and can't raise them on coms. I assume they are out patrolling or something. Which is unfortunate because I promised the guy that Hannibal would deliver a Nautolan."

"We'll figure something out," Myriam replied as she approached the bedroom door. "There's a shower in here, right? Wait, why is the door locked?"

"Don't know," Finly started. He walked over and began fiddling with the controls.

A few seconds later the door slid open. Numa stepped out smoothing down her robes. "Good…afternoon, Jedi."

"Great you're here!" Finly explained. "I made contact with….."

A slightly disheveled Hannibal stepped out of the bedroom also straightening his clothes. "He appeared slightly nervous at the sudden appearance of his teammates. "Oh hi, we were just… meditating."

Myriam's eyes widened in either shock or horror, but she could not decide which, "I have a bad feeling about this…."

Numa seemed unfazed, but slightly annoyed at Hannibal's shaken demeanor. "Yes, I was showing the younger Jedi some new…. techniques."

"Great!" the oblivious Finly interjected. "Perhaps one of you could show me when we're done?"

Myriam rolled her eyes and barged passed the others. "I need a shower and we have a mission."

When Myriam finished her shower and meditations, she emerged from the bedroom to find Finly briefing his comrades. He pointed to the pot of caf waiting for her. She nodded in appreciation and adjusted the skimpy clothes that made up her disguise. When Finly completed the briefing, Myriam cleared her throat. "I only have one question. Do you have my lightsaber?"

"You mean _my_ lightsaber?" He patted his jacket. A belt with all of their lightsabers was concealed beneath. "It's back where it belongs."

"Then you've figured out how to turn it on then?" Myriam teased.

It was Finly's turn to roll his eyes. "What do we do with Iesha?"

Before Numa could say something negative about her condition, Myriam spoke up. "She trained hard last night. She's earned a break." Myriam set a comlink with the call signal turned up high near the sleeping padawan. "We'll call her if we need her." Finly likewise set her lightsaber on the table.

Hannibal clasped his hands together. "Then we're all set. Let's get this show on the road."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Various Jedi had various approaches to accomplishing missions. In Hannibal's approach, he had visited plenty of sleazy establishments across the galaxy. Despite its posh exterior, even he had never visited a place that felt quite as sleazy as the Happy Mynock. It put forth no illusions about the reason for its existence. It had one purpose, to provide its customers with whatever form of physical stimulation that they could afford. Hannibal had nothing against physical stimulation, but paying for people as though they were drinks, left him with a sick feeling in his stomach.

"There you are!" the guy from the thermal baths announced as the undercover Jedi entered the lounge. He slapped Finly on the shoulder and greeted Hannibal formally. Almost immediately, his attention was drawn to Myriam. "You're were right, my Sullustan friend. She is marvelous." He cupped her chin in his hand, but his eyes were quickly drawn to Numa. "I thought there were two humans."

Hannibal spoke up, "The other is not feeling well this evening. I'll offer a discount for your inconvenience."

The would-be-buyer did not hear a word of the explanation. He was fully focused on Numa. "Magnificent," he stroked her shoulders and ran his hands down both arms. "How much for all three of them?"

"Well," Hannibal pretended to ponder, "like I said, the one is sick, but for these two….."

"I'm not talking about just tonight," the man interrupted, "I mean permanently. And I'll take a look of whatever else ya got too…."

None of them had expected this blatant of an offer. Hannibal had no idea what the going rate for another living being was. "Hmmmm…. Well, I have so many, I forget what I paid for these. Give me a minute to research." He reached out to Finly for the datapad.

The buyer shrugged. "Eh, doesn't matter," He snapped his fingers and the enter lounge seemed to fill with men with blasters. "I know you're not with the Network. So I'll just take them."

"What Network?" Myriam's eyes almost seemed to flame.

The buyer flashed a grin at Hannibal, "You let your girls, talk out of turn? I'll have to teach 'em." He raised his hand, but it froze in place before he could bring it down to Myriam's face. She flashed a smile just before the buyer was propelled backwards into some of the armed men.

"Cover!" Numa screamed. All four Jedi flipped backwards behind a small bar counter, just as it was hit with a barrage of blaster fire.

"This counter isn't going to hold very long against that amount of fire," Finly screamed as he fumbled all four lightsabers from beneath his coat.

"Myriam," Numa yelled. "Can you do your no-hands lightsaber trick?"

"Yeah," Myriam confirmed, "but it's going to take more than just one before our cover disintegrates. Can any of you help?"

The other three looked helplessly at each other. "Never tried," Numa confessed.

"There is no 'try'," Myriam yelled back. "If you can control ships with your thoughts, then you can use your lightsaber. So we'll send our sabers to knock down as many shooters as possible. A few seconds after, Hannibal and Finly, you two go from each side. Numa and I will deflect as much fire as possible until we can reaquire our sabers, then we'll all just keep fighting."

Hannibal wished that Hector were here as he glanced at Numa. "As good a plan as any. Just wish we had some kind of distraction….."

Before he could finish, the glass ceiling shattered. A robed figure with a green lightsaber dropped onto the shooters in the center of the crowd and began to cut down the rest. "That will do," Numa screamed. "Go!"

Numa and Myriam's lightsabers followed quickly by Hannibal and Finly leaped from behind the counter. Numa and Myriam popped up as promised deflecting as much blaster fire as the Force allowed them. Soon their sabers were back in their hands and all five Jedi were taking on their attackers.

Numa made her way to the center. Iesha was fighting with a fury that the senior Jedi had rarely seen before. Numa sensed no anger in the padawan's fighting, just the pure concentration that comes with trusting the Force. Numa reasoned that Iesha's skills came from the hours that she spent meditating, due more to Granger's (or perhaps Myriam's) training than hers. The girl would be a Jedi knight soon enough.

The fighting lasted for what seemed like hours, but actually only a few minutes. When the Jedi were finished, the few surviving shooters surrendered, but the Jedi's target had slipped out during the fighting. The local authorities cleaned up the scene and took the surviving thugs into custody. "Now we know who their boss is," a sergeant summed up for Numa. "We can keep working on our end. Republic authorities can work what we know on your end. We'll have him soon enough."

"And his contacts," Numa added as she glanced around the room. It had mostly cleared except for her teammates who had gathered near what was left of the bar counter. "Good job, everyone," Numa congratulated as she joined them.

Finly examined the remains of the counter with a whistle. "Not much left. Iesha, you must be pretty in tune with the Force, to sense we were in danger and get here as quickly as you did."

"Not really," Iesha conceded. "The comlink signal woke me and I got dressed and got here as quickly as I could."

"Good timing though," Myriam congratulated, then added, "And pretty decent saber skills."

"I think it was last night's meditations….. my head still hurts though….." Iesha grinned.

"Wait," Finly continued, "What comlink signal?"

"Oh that was me," Hannibal confessed. "I just had a bad feeling when we came in so I went ahead and signaled."

Numa smiled and placed a hand on Hannibal's shoulder, "Nicely done."

"Of course," Hannibal grinned back.

"Good teamwork, then everyone," Numa congratulated before she sensed too much awkwardness.

"Well," Myriam clasped her hands together. "I have a gang war brewing on Draxil that needs my attention so I'll get back to the room and collect my things and be on my way."

Iesha added, "Yeah, if I stay away from Syllian for too long, Jessie starts getting ideas. Plus I probably missed a couple of check-ins from Hector….."

"Yep," Finly added as he joined the departing two, "Felt good working together. Maybe we can do it again soon."

Their voices trailed off as they walked away leaving Numa and Hannibal alone in the lounge. Numa spoke up first, "It was good…working with you, Jedi Hannibal."

Hannibal scanned his senior's face, "It was indeed. If you ever have a need to come to Kebra be sure to let me know."

"I will be sure to. And things are pretty busy on Cepha, if I need assistance someday, perhaps….." Numa replied.

"Absolutely," Hannibal grinned.


	10. Chapter 10: Swan Song Part 1

**Swan Song Part 1**

Johann stumbled as he reached the main square of the capital city. He wanted to believe that he had reached the right place, but he really had no clue. _Where does one even find a Jedi?_ Everyone had heard that a Jedi was now residing in their system. Although the capital seemed to be his base of operations, he was known to move around quite a bit. Johann had no idea if this rumored Jedi was even on the planet at the moment. But it seemed that the Creator had guided his journey here. No one trusted the local authorities, but if anyone knew how to contact a Jedi, surely, they would be the ones.

Johann barely made it up the steps to the station without collapsing. When he reached the main desk, his words could barely be heard beneath his panting. "I need to reach the Jedi."

Before the desk sergeant could respond, Johann collapsed into a lump in the middle of the station.

 **XXXXXXXXXXX**

Finly's shuttle touched down and he descended the ramp. He had not learned to call his new flat home, but it felt more comfortable than being constantly on the move. Surprisingly, he did not want a shower. After the thermal baths of Pleasure Moon, he felt as though he wanted to roll around in the dirt for a while, but decided that might appear beneath the dignity of a Jedi.

"Master Jedi!" a voice called as he reached the platform.

"Yes?" Finly asked wearily.

A young officer from the local police approached him. "Good evening, I'm Rolyn of the Planetary Authority Enforcement. I know you have just returned from a long trip, but we have encountered something rather unusual and were hoping you could look into it for us."

Finly sighed. He really did not mind lending a hand, but was very tired. Plus, _Planetary Authority Enforcement_ , meant very little on this world….except maybe that someone needed a bribe. "Of course. How can I help?"

 **XXXXXXXXXXX**

The hospital room was surprisingly empty except for a few machines and the odd-looking creature that occupied the bed. The officer escorted Finly to the bedside. "He has been in and out since we brought him here. Mostly dehydrated, it seems. I think his name is Johann."

"Johann," Finly whispered and waved a hand over him, "are you with us?"

Johann stirred in pain, but managed to open his eyes. "Jedi," he breathed more than said. "Kora….. you must….." Johann was asleep again just as quickly as he was awake.

"Kora?" Finly glanced at the officer.

"The far moon is Kora…." A flash seemed to hit the officer. "There's this cult of religious nuts that live there. I knew I recognized his outfit from somewhere."

"Anything else there?"

"Not much. Some mining operations. Most everything is underground. The atmosphere is terrible. Breathable, but everyone who I know that has been there gets sick if they stay above ground too long. Is that where we start?" the officer asked.

" _We?"_ Finly clarified.

The officer tilted his head. "I know he came looking for you, but he was assigned to me. Until we figure this out or I'm reassigned, he's my responsibility."

Finly grinned. "I feel you. We'll give him a couple of days to recover. We don't even know what we're dealing with yet. Let's have an idea of what we are doing before we go rushing off anywhere."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXX**

"So other than basic patrols nothing to report," Finly summed up for Iesha.

"Well," Iesha sighed, "let me know if there is…."

"Oh well, there is this one thing, probably nothing," Finly added. "Some guy from one of the outer moons collapsed in the local police station looking for me a few nights ago. I went with an officer to visit him, but will wait until he has recovered a little more."

"What did he want?" Iesha inquired.

"Not a clue. Like I said, probably nothing."

"Well," Iesha sighed again, "like I said, let me know."

"Sure thing," Finly smiled. "Finly out."

The Sullustan Jedi stretched his back. It was still pretty early. He had already been on patrol so he figured the best thing for a Jedi to do was to meditate. He sat on the floor with his legs crossed, closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Beneath his eyelids, Finly thought he saw a spot of light in the far distance. The light grew, or got closer. Finly was not sure which. Soon it surrounded him. It encompassed him. It penetrated him. Finly knew this was the Force and his heart filled with joy. He had never felt it this intently before. It was as if this moment was what all his training had been about and he wanted to stay there, in the light, but a soft voice whispered from the light. The voice seemed to be coming from all around and from within him, all at once, yet it was barely a whisper. _Soon Finly, but not yet._ Then, just as quickly as it swallowed him, the light began to fade, or pull back. Finly was not sure which. The light left him in a gray haze. Finly sensed something lurking in the haze, an ominous presence that seemed to be watching him. He reached for his lightsaber, but it was not there. Then he remembered that it was across the room on his table and he was seated on a rug on the floor. Then he heard a noise, it was distant, but familiar. His doorbell?

Finly's eyes popped open. He immediately stuck out his hand and called his lightsaber to him as he sprang to his feet. His lightsaber ignited in his hand, bathing the now dark room in green light. He spun frantically searching for any sign of danger. The sun had set. It did not seem like he had been at it that long. He realized that he was nearly panicked. He closed his eyes again and took a couple of deep breaths. His eyes shot open when he heard the doorbell again. He shut down the lightsaber before opening the door. For some reason, he was not surprised to find Officer Rolyn on the other side.

"Master Jedi," the officer seemed shaken. "I have some bad news…there was an explosion…."

"Where?" Finly asked astonishedly, although somehow, he already knew the answer.

"The hospital," Rolyn's face dropped even lower than it already was.

Finly took a deep breath. "OK, let's go check it out."

When the pair arrived at the hospital, the recovery crews had almost finished cleaning up the mess. "Gas leak," the supervisor informed them when they approached. "Froshin' tragic."

Finly recognized the damaged wing as the one that housed Johann, "Casualties?"

"The supervisor sighed. "Seventeen dead that we can figure so far, lots injured. A few staff and patients still missing."

 _Missing_ , made Finly hopeful. "Any word on the patient in 307?"

The supervisor scanned through his datapad, "Yeah, we found his body….. or parts of it at least."

Finly and Rolyn frowned. Rolyn spoke up, "Any idea where the blast came from?"

The supervisor eyed Rolyn carefully. "What do you mean, officer?" Finly could tell by the supervisor's tone that he either did not care for Rolyn or the question or maybe both.

"Like what room or area it originated in?"

"No," the supervisor stated coldly. "It will take a while for the lab to get those results…..if it can even be determined."

"The lab, right," Rolyn's frown seemed to frown.

The supervisor dismissed himself. Finly and Rolyn roamed the site for a bit, but there was nothing for them to do that would be helpful or any helpful information to be acquired. Finally, a fuming Rolyn mumbled. "Do you drink caf, Master Jedi?"

"Call me Finly," the Jedi answered, "and yeah, of course."

The café that Rolyn was prone to was not far from the hospital. He was two cups into his brooding silence when Finly finally decided to say something. "What do you make of all this?"

Rolyn's sigh was nearly a growl. "There won't be any lab report. Or it will be lost, or inconclusive."

"You don't trust your department, huh?" Finly raised an eyebrow."

"Of course not. Law enforcement is a joke throughout this system. I'm sure anyone who would bomb a hospital also has enough pull to hinder the investigation," Rolyn downed the rest of that cup of caf.

Although it seemed inappropriate, Finly could not help but laugh. "You know, until just now, I wasn't sure if I could trust you."

Rolyn stifled a chuckle. "Well I suppose I deserve that just because I work for the department.

"What makes you different?" Finly asked.

Rolyn seemed to go somewhere else for a moment. "My father was killed by some loan sharks when I was a kid. Although everyone knew who did it, no one was ever arrested. I swore I would be an officer and that I would never let anything like that happen under my watch. Aaaaaand I usually get stuck with the cases that are of little to no importance. When I am on to something significant, I'm reassigned or the lab loses the evidence or….."

"Whatever," Finly concluded. "Did you ever look into your father's case?"

"No need," the officer frowned afresh. "the guys who were responsible crossed the wrong people and were killed a few years later. Such is justice out here on the Edge." Rolyn blew the breath slowly between his lips. "So, when do you want to go to Kora?"

Finly pondered the question. "We still don't know what we're looking for or where to start. Sure, it's a small moon, but it's still a moon. I'll check out the hospital again tonight. You see if you can turn up anything. We'll meet tomorrow and see if we have any more to go on."

"Sounds like a plan," Rolyn conceded and ordered a fresh mug of caf.

It was the early hours of the morning when Finly returned to the hospital. All the authorities were gone, but the damaged wing was blocked off. Finly shut down some of the sensors to hide his movements. He made scans and took samples of the rubble.

He was nearly finished and standing in what used to be the doorway of Johann's room when the same ominous presence that he felt while he was meditating seemed to crawl right up his spine. Again, he spun on his heels and his lightsaber sprung to life. And again, the green glow revealed nothing. He glanced around him with his eyes. Then he shut them and reached out with the Force. There seemed to be nothing to be alarmed about. He closed his saber and returned to his flat.

At home, he started a pot of caf and ran his scans and samples through his equipment. What he had in his apartment was probably more sophisticated than the police lab, but Coruscant would be better still. So, he forwarded his info to Iesha so she could forward it to someone in the Temple, then laid down for a little rest.

When he awoke, he immediately checked his computer. He frowned as he finished the analysis. _Gas leak_ , but it did emanate from an area near Johann's room _._ Finly moped into his kitchen, reheated the leftover caf and leaned against the counter as he pondered his next move. His thoughts were interrupted when his communication consul chimed.

Finly rushed back to the den. Iesha's blue image appeared as soon as he hit the button on the consul. "Gas leak," the padawan stated.

"Yeah, I got that," Finly tried not to sound unappreciative. "I'll let you know if I turn up anything else….."

"I turned up something else," Iesha interrupted.

"What?" Finly's head shot up from his mug.

"Well, I think it may be something," Iesha began. "Have you ever heard of a saboteur named Holden?"

Finly shook his head when the name did not ring any bells.

"So, this could be nothing, but facial recognition has him on the arrival docks of your planet a week ago. Nothing since then. There's nothing on him in Republic space, but he's wanted for questioning on half a dozen planets in throughout the Outer Rim….. and I mean…. the outer Outer Rim. He specializes in explosives and making his handiwork seem like an accident is his M/O." Iesha paused. "I know that's not much….."

Finly seemed to perk up, "That's a lot more than we've had to go on so far. This is the first hint that this isn't just some wild Bantha chase. Thanks Iesha."

"Anything for a fellow Corellian," Iesha grinned. "Glad I could help. Iesha out."

 **XXXXXXXXXXX**

Finly met Rolyn at the same café that evening. The officer did not seem happy. "Good news?" Finly asked as he slid into the seat across the table.

"Gas leak originating from and unknown source," the young officer frowned. "Just as I suspected."

Finly grinned, "Well, the 'unknown source' is the line near Johann's room."

Rolyn seemed to perk up, but quickly resumed his scowl. "They will just say it's a coincidence."

Finly grinned again, "Ever hear of a saboteur named Holden?" Rolyn shook his head. "Well, he was on this planet a week ago. May still be here. He specializes in this type of thing. Now when I take an explosion in a hospital in the room of a guy who was looking for me, and a known saboteur on the prowl, I see that as a lead to follow….. a pretty weak lead, but a lead still. Care to join?"

"Of course," Rolyn agreed, but as I've said, the department is clearly covering something or for someone. No way they're letting me near this."

Finly slid a datapad across the table. "They won't turn down an official request from the Jedi Council. It's already been approved for you to assist me in…. an unspecified investigation."

Rolyn perked up, "They'll play the part, but they'll know what we're up to. And there's no way they approve me taking a shuttle out to Kora."

"I already charted us a flight."

Captain Sulli and her copilot, Malia were standing at the foot of the ramp when their passengers approached. "I never met a Jedi," Malia mumbled.

"I never met a Sullustan. Do they stink?" Sulli replied.

Malia shrugged, then her eyes fell on Rolyn, "He a Jedi too? He's cute."

"Nah," Sulli side-eyed the younger woman, "look at the uniform, he's PAE."

"Greetings," Finly nodded as they reached the ship. "I'm Jedi Finly and this is Officer Rolyn."

Sulli spit a wad of tobacco juice, "I'm….."

"Captain Sulli," Rolyn spoke up. "I've heard of you. I hear you're the best pilot in the Edge."

Sulli replied. "Second best. There's one's better. They call him the….." Malia nudged her captain trying to get her senior to just accept the compliment.

"Oh yeah," Rolyn raised his eyebrows in remembrance. "Heard of him too."

"Well," Sulli half requested, half demanded. "If you all will get on board, we'll be on our way."

It did not take long before the ship was approaching the moon of Kora. Finly and Rolyn joined the pilots in the cockpit when the ship dropped out of its quick hyperspace jump. "What's out here anyway?"

Finly and Rolyn exchanged a glance. "We're not sure."

"Nuthin' down here but mines and that cult," Sulli chimed in.

"Do you know anything about the cult?" Finly asked.

"Just a bunch of nuts is all I know. Think they spend too much time on the surface, breathin' the atmosphere if ya ask me. I hear they even go out into the Unknown and Wild Space, Buncha crazies," Sulli summed up her position.

"Interesting," Finly scratched his chin.

The ship rocked slightly as it approached the atmosphere. A few seconds passed and another bump seemed to come from the back of the ship. "Go check that out," Sulli whispered to Malia. When Malia was gone, she turned to the passengers. "You two better go to the lounge and strap in. The atmosphere's a little bumpier than I remember."

The two complied and made their way down the corridor towards the lounge. Finly's spine tingled with the same ominous feeling as before. Reflexively, he put his hand on his saber, but he knew it would do no good. He quickly slapped two buttons on the side wall. Two emergency seats unfolded. "We need to strap in, now!" Finly yelled at Rolyn.

The Jedi hurriedly sat and strapped himself in. Rolyn just stood and stammered. "Why?"

"Just do it!" Finly screamed a little too late. As Rolyn sat and began to fiddle with the straps, an explosion rocked the back of the ship. Rolyn flew from his seat, smashing his head into the ceiling. A wall of flame shot from the rear. Finly felt it sear the left side of his face before he was able to repel it through the Force.

Sulli's voice came over the intercom, "Malia! What's happening? Malia! We're going down hard!"

Finly fought through the pain on the side of his face and pulled Rolyn into his seat with the Force. He struggled to move the straps, but managed to get Rolyn's lap belt fastened. Through the flames at the back, he could see space turn into sky. They were in the atmosphere. The back of the ship and thereby the engines were gone so it seemed they would soon burn up. Finly closed his eyes and tried to calm himself with a deep breath. His eyes popped open and he looked out the back of the ship again. He saw what, at first, he thought was the sun, but as the sun began to expand, he realized that it was the same light he had seen before. The light of the Force. As the light began to take him in again, the pain of his face, his fear and concerns of his approaching death, all faded away. He breathed deeply, taking in the light itself. As light overtook him, the last thing Finly heard was Sulli's voice screaming from the intercom. It seemed far away, "Brace for impact!" Then Finly was left with nothing, but the light and peace of the Force.


	11. Chapter 11: Swan Song Part 2

**Swan Song: Part 2**

Hector had only been to a couple of funerals before this one. When a Jedi died, all were welcomed to attend, unless they had pressing business elsewhere, which as he glanced around the crowd at the faces of his assembled teammates, save two, he assumed was the reason for Master Granger's absence (that and the fact that only a handful of the assembled Jedi knew that Granger was still a Jedi.

The other funerals that Hector had attended were for various old masters to which he was expected to pay his respects.

But never had he been to a funeral for a friend, arguably his best friend. He stared into the pyre as it burned. There was nothing there for the wood to burn. The atmosphere of some small, distant moon had already done the pyre's job. Hector knew that he should not be grieving, yet it bothered him that there was nothing left of Finly on this side of the light for the assembled Jedi to honor.

When the memorial was over, the Jedi mingled with one another. Myriam spoke briefly with Master Yoda. She and Voudon even managed a polite nod in each other's direction. Numa spoke with Master's Tarayzin and Oo'looku. Hannibal mingled with various acquaintances. Eventually, Hector and Iesha found each other. Hannibal was the next to join them followed soon by Myriam. Numa found her way to the group forming a proper, but silent circle.

Myriam spoke first, "So Numa, have you arranged a shuttle to the Edge or should one of us handle it?"

Hector perked up at the thought of finding out what happened to his friend, but his optimism was quickly squashed.

"The Jedi Council will handle the investigation. We will resume our designated missions," Numa explained. She could see that did not sit right with anyone around the circle.

Hannibal was the first to respond, "That ain't right, Numa," Their eyes met and in a very un-Hannibal fashion, he seemed to back down.

"He's right," Myriam chimed in, "Finly was one of us. We should be the ones looking into this."

Numa sighed. "More importantly than being 'one of us', he was a Jedi. And the Council has made their decision."

The circle was silent for what seemed like an eternity. This time, Iesha, who was becoming quite crafty as she grew more experienced, spoke up. "Did the Council expressly say that we could not go?"

Everyone searched Numa's face as she pondered the question. "Well…. No…."

"I'm going," Hector announced. He glanced around the group, then eyed Numa. "Don't worry. If the Council asks, I'll tell them that it was my decision."

"Very well," Numa conceded. "See what you can turn up, but do not get in over your head."

Well," Hector offered, "it was ruled an accident. If that's true it shouldn't take long." For some reason, none of them thought it was an accident.

"If you need back up, just send word," Myriam was the first to offer.

"Absolutely," Hannibal was next.

"Same here," Iesha added.

"That goes for all of us," Numa confirmed.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXX**

 _Brace for impact!_ Were the last words Finly would hear as he faded into the Light of the Force. Or maybe it faded into him. He could not tell which and it did not matter anymore. Finly was completely at peace. His entire life as a Jedi had been about this moment. He briefly thought about the pilots, and Rolyn, even Johann, but these were fleeting concerns as he and the Light embraced each other. He briefly regretted not getting to say goodbye to his new-found friends on his team, but he also quickly let that go as the Light took over. He even felt himself begin to fade, soon would come the moment every Jedi wished for, to be completely one with the Force. Only the fading seemed to come to a stop. He blinked his eyes, but saw the Light all around him whether his eyes were open or shut. Then he realized that he did not have "eyes" any more. The Light was bright, but it did not hurt. _Soon Finly, but not yet,_ the same voice from a few days earlier whispered again, both from within him and all around him.

"Why?" Finly asked as the Light began to withdraw from him or shrink, he was not sure which. He was quickly aware that he still had a body and that it was full of pain. His arms felt heavy, but he managed to reach out for the receding Light. "No!" Finly screamed, but his voice came out as barely a whisper

"So, your upper body still functions?" a voice came from beside him. "Good."

Finly was suddenly aware that he was in a medical facility and that he was reaching for the light fixture hanging from the ceiling. "It seems you are paralyzed from the waist down, but don't worry, I'll see what I can do about that."

"Where am I?" Finly's voice was rough, but louder than before. He turned his head towards the woman who had been speaking.

"You're on Kora. And believe it or not, in the best facility in the galaxy for your type of injuries," the woman rose from her chair and approached the bed.

"What happened?" Finly thought he knew the answer, but was struggling to focus.

"Your ship crashed," the woman explained. "You and your friend there seem to be the only survivors….. if you can call the state he is in 'survival'. She pointed to Rolyn's body, which was submerged in a bacta tank.

"Is he….." Finly whispered.

"He's not quite braindead, but pretty close. I'll work on him some more before his vitals shut down completely, but I doubt he'll be fully functional again. She glanced at a datapad then paused to admire Finly. "I have never worked on a full-fledged Jedi before." She picked up a device near his bed and placed it around his head. "We're going to have a lot of fun together."

"What are you….." Finly tried to ask.

The woman hit a button on the device, sending agony through Finly's brain. "Can't have you using that pesky Force on me. A round tube enclosed Finly's bed which quickly filled with bacta. "Just try to relax," the woman suggested. "It will be easier for you that way."

 **XXXXXXXXX**

Hector brought his small craft out of hyperspace. Most Jedi were trained to pilot such craft to some degree or another, but he rarely flew himself. This was one of the instances that he felt it would be better to come alone. Finly had been with at least three others when their ship went down. Whatever was going on out here, if he was flying into a trap, Hector did not want to drag anyone else along with him.

He landed near the crash site. Not much was left of the ship. Hector aimlessly wandered around the wreckage taking scans. He thought it ironic that Finly would be much better suited to this job than he was. After scanning what was left of the ship and some nearby pieces of wreckage that had broken away, Hector reached out with his senses. There was something that did not feel right, but he could not place it. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out, slowly. Still all he felt was an ominous feeling. Hector knelt by a piece of wreckage. He picked it up a small piece and closed his eyes as he placed it against his forehead. "Finly," he whispered.

"Find anything?" Hector dropped the scrap and shot to his feet as he spun to face the familiar voice of possibly the last person that he wanted to see.

Hector's hand reflexively went to his lightsaber, although he hesitated to pull it. "What are you doing here?"

Nelino raised his hands to demonstrate his peaceful intentions. "Take it easy. I'm not here for that. I'm here, same as you, to find out what happened." After a pause and period of staring each other down, the Sentinel added, "Funny, the Council didn't mention that they were sending anyone else to investigate."

Hector relaxed. "The Council didn't send me. Our team just felt….."

"He was your comrade," Nelino completed. "I get that too. It's only logical that you would feel obligated to send someone to investigate for yourself."

 _He was my friend, you twit._ Hector wanted to clarify farther, but the Sentinel may take that as attachment and try to steal his lightsaber again. "I suppose you could say that. I took some scans of the wreckage. I'll send them in, see if anything turns up. Beyond that….."

"You feel it too?" Nelino stated more than asked. "The darkness?"

"Yeah," Hector muttered. "Any idea what that is?"

"I'm afraid not," Nelino conceded. "Just some twisted presence that hangs over this place like a shadow. And a Jedi died here. I doubt it's a coincidence."

Hector swallowed the anger that tried to well up at the thought of someone murdering Finly. "Did you find anything?"

"Maybe. There are some tracks that do not match those of the emergency vehicles. No way of knowing which came first. Probably just scavengers." Nelino pondered aloud.

"Scavengers," Hector glanced around. "There's a lot of metal scrap still here if that's the case."

Nelino seemed to perk up. "True." He examined the ship. "Only the midsection is still more or less intact." He tapped the hull, then grinned, making a Force leap to the open section in the rear that stuck almost straight into the air. Looking inside he noticed the two emergency seats that had been used. His grin grew bigger, then he hopped back down to Hector. "This part of the ship is reinforced. They call it a 'crash room'. Most smaller ships out here have one of these instead of escape pods. It looks like there were two people strapped in when this thing went down."

Hector nearly burst with hope. "You're saying there could have been survivors?"

Nelino glanced at the hull again. "This ship came down hard. There may have been bodies, but I doubt anyone survived this."

Hector clinched a fist at the thought of someone stealing Finly's body. He breathed in slowly and looked off in the direction of the tracks. "Then we should get moving."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXX**

"We gotta problem, Doc," Holden barged into Dr. Piraeus' office.

The doctor, sitting at her desk and sipping tea, glanced up from the datapad that she had been studying. "What now?"

The saboteur continued, "There's a speeder and a shuttle making their way across the desert. I think at least one's a Jedi."

The doctor exhaled slowly. "I should have expected this." She glanced around her desk at her gathered data. "Worst possible time too. I have a real Jedi to work with."

"I'm pretty sure that's why they're coming," Holden placed his hands on his hips.

The doctor gave the saboteur a cold stare, then seemed to accept her fate. "Ah well, the Jedi only would have been a distraction from the real work I suppose." Then she paused, "Any chance you can get rid of them?"

Holden grinned, "Of course I could, but that will only bring even more Jedi this way."

Piraeus pondered her choices. "I suppose you're right." She hopped from her seat and began to gather various data pads and disks. "Can you slow them down at least?"

"I already set all that up, but slow them down for what?"

"Our time here has come to an end. It was fun while it lasted. Rig this place to blow. We have to destroy everything," Piraeus summed up.

"What about the…patients?" Holden asked.

"No time to evacuate them," Piraeus continued to gather her belongings. "I have all the data. I can restart somewhere else."

"What about the kids?" Holden seemed to push.

Piraeus paused and looked the man she considered a subordinate in the eye. "We destroy all the evidence. I have the data."

Holden understood the urgency, but still begged to differ. "The bosses won't be happy about….."

"Our employers," Piraeus clarified, "value secrecy above all else. That's why you were not allowed to take out the Jedi before he left the planet. They have the previous subjects. I have the data. Our expedient escape is the only priority." She paused to regard her collected data. "Such a pity though. This was the perfect place to operate. That cult provided so many completely anonymous subjects for testing….."

Holden cleared his throat, "One too many apparently. So, I'll go rig the bomb. You finish getting what you need and I'll meet you at the shuttle." With that, they both went to work on their tasks.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Hector's craft followed just slightly above Nelino's speeder. A transmission came in from Iesha informing Hector that a trace amount of some chemical from his scans matched a trace amount of some chemical that had been detected in the hospital explosion. Neither seemed out of place, except that the same chemical was also detected in connection with several of the crimes for which the saboteur, that Finly had been chasing, was wanted. It was still a very thin connection, but that was all they had at the moment.

Hector and Nelino followed the tracks through the desert until they disappeared among a group of rocks. They parked their vehicles and searched, but the tracks seemed to evaporate. "Well," Hector asked. "Now what?"

Nelino looked into the sky. "It will be dark soon. We should set up camp for the night and get some rest."

"Great," Hector tried to swallow his frustration as he tried to swallow his previous anger. Nelino set up a portable force-field that would help produce a more breathable atmosphere and laid out a sleeping mat in the sand. Hector's small ship did not allow for a sleeping area so he set up a similar mat then set up his portable heater for dinner.

"Look," Nelino tried to break the awkward silence. "I know our first encounter was not exactly social, but you need to understand, Finly was my fellow Jedi as well. I want to find out what happened to him just as badly as you do. I do hope you trust me."

Hector pondered the comment as he chewed his food. "He was my friend. That's why I called him when you took my lightsaber." Hector paused again at the memory. He could not help but chuckle. "He thought you were a Sith."

Nelino chuckled this time. "The problem with being a Sentinel is that no one knows who you are." He thought about Hector's words. "And we don't have friends."

Hector paused from his meal. "What about your fellow Sentinels? There are other Sentinels, right?"

"I think so," Nelino chewed as he spoke. "We don't exactly work together. We're kind of chosen for this based on our ability to function on our own."

Hector thought of Granger. "Sounds kind of sad, but you're here now helping me with this. Regardless of what happened before, that makes you a 'friend' in my book."

Nelino tried not to sound like a child. "I never had a friend before…" Then he added, "And with three-time lightsaber champion, Hector Andrilious, no less."

Hector nearly choked on his food, "You know who I am?"

"I'm pretty sure that entire Jedi Order knows who you are," Nelino answered.

Hector held his plate without eating. "Did you know who I was when you stole my saber?"

Nelino chuckled, "Not at first, but pretty soon after. That's why I held on to it. Safest play for me to make."

Hector could not believe his ears. He tossed his plate aside. "I'm going to sleep." He lay back on his mat and stared up at the stars. Nelino finished his food soon after and likewise laid down. With the clear air and thin atmosphere, the entire galaxy seemed visible to Hector. _Wherever you are now, Finly. I hope what you are seeing is half as wonderful as what I'm looking at._

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The device that Piraeus attached to Finly's head before placing him into the bacta tank sent random impulses of energy into his brain. It wreaked havoc with his ability to focus, which prevented him from calling upon the Force. His scattered mind was everywhere at once. Sometimes he was in the bacta tank on the forsaken moon.

 _Then he was in lightsaber training in a group of younglings with Master Yoda in the Jedi Temple. Then he was back on Syllian with his teammates. Hannibal and Hector were cracking jokes, usually about each other, but every once and a while, Hannibal would send one his way. He knew that it was just Hannibal's way of trying to include him, but he could not make the snappy come-backs that Hector could or drum up the killer looks that Myriam produced. Then Finly was seated across from his Master in meditation training. Then he was standing before the Council with other initiates. Myriam was there holding the lightsaber that he had built. Then he was older standing before the Council again, this time for a botched mission._

Then he was back in the bacta tank and in complete agony. In one of his few coherent thoughts, Finly realized that the pain was less intense in his memories. He tried to stay in the memories for as long as he could, but that required focus too, which brought pain.

 _Then he was sitting across from his former master in the Jedi Temple. His master was instructing him on how to properly connect with the Force. "Just let go, Finly."_

 _Finly breathed deeply. He tried to focus on his breathing, but his mind was scattered._

 _His master's eyes popped open. "Clear your mind, young one. The Force beckons you to it. Just feel it."_

 _Finly became frustrated. "I don't think…."_

" _Exactly!" his master piped up. "Don't think!" He stared intently into his pupil's eyes. "Finly, you are possibly the smartest Jedi in the Order, but do not trust in your intelligence to understand the Force. It is not something to be understood rationally. Just feel it within you."_

 _Finly closed his eyes again. "Feel he whispered to himself. Just feel it."_

Suddenly, the entire room began to shake. The bacta in Finly's tank began to bubble. The glass container began to rattle violently, then shattered into nearly microscopic pieces. A surge of power shorted the device around Finly's head and with a violent yell, he snatched it off and threw it to the ground. He looked around the room. There was no one except Rolyn, still submerged in his bacta tank. Finly tried to move his legs, but they were unresponsive. He reached out with the Force and managed to lift both of them, but it would take years of practice to mimic the natural motor skills. So, he went with his only option and rolled out of the tank and onto the floor with a much harder crash than he would have liked. He pulled himself across the floor to Rolyn's bacta tank. Reaching up, he placed one hand on the vertical glass. With a blast of power from the Force, this glass likewise shattered. Finly reached out with his senses and caught Rolyn's falling body before it hit the floor. He propped his nearly naked body against the base of the tank and through the Force gently set the body of the young officer in his arms.

The woman from before mentioned that Rolyn was nearly dead. Finly could sense the life-force fading out of him. The Jedi choked back tears. "Don't be afraid. I would gladly go in your place." As he cradled the dying officer, Finly knew in his heart that death was nothing to fear. However, it was not his place to lead someone else into it. Rolyn exhaled one last time, then Finly was left with a lifeless body in his arms. He stared at shell of the young man who had been so determined. He thought of the two pilots. He thought of Johann who had come looking for him. He glanced into a mirror in the wall and saw the severely burned left side of his face. His ear was missing from the wall of flame that hit him when the ship's engines exploded. And there he was a half-paralyzed, half-fried broken Jedi sprawled out on a trashed hospital room floor. He cried out in hopelessness. "Why am I still here?"

He dropped his head and continued to cradle Rolyn's body. Finly did not see the light this time, but he did hear the voice. _Soon Finly, but not yet._

His head darted up at the sound. Had he imagined it? He reached out through the Force hoping to hear it again. His heightened senses did not bring the voice back. What it brought was far worse. All around him, Finly sensed misery. The facility seemed filled with rooms filled with beings who, like Finly, were in various degrees of pain. Finly could feel that he was in the next to the last room. In the last room there were two children, one a baby. And Finly could feel that the baby could sense him as well. Was the child Force sensitive? What is this place? Is this why he was here? With new determination, Finly gently set the body of his fallen friend on the floor, wrapped himself in a blanket, and began to pull himself towards the door.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXX**

A surge of pain from within the Force awoke Hector. "Finly!" he screamed jumping to his feet and immediately ignited his lightsaber. He glanced around the camp, but all he could see was Nelino bathed in the blue light of his saber.

Nelino was also on his feet. "I felt it too. What do you think….." the ground began to violently shake and both Jedi were slammed to the ground. Some of the nearby rocks seemed to sink into the ground and a massive hole of light appeared in their place. Within seconds, a shuttle was shooting out of the hole, up into the sky and into space. Just as quickly as it appeared, the hanger began to shut. "You should follow them in your craft," Nelino started to suggest.

However, Hector had already closed his saber and was charging for the disappearing hole. "Finly!" he screamed again. "Hang on!"

"Wait!" Nelino yelled behind his fellow Jedi and followed.

The main door of the hangar shut a little too closely to Nelino's feet as he dove through it. Hector was a few paces in front of him. They both sensed danger, but before either could ask the other, remote cannons rose from the floor and began to fire. The Jedi's blue and yellow blades likewise sprung to life and as quickly deflected the fire, back into the weapons. The echo of the fire was still in the hangar when Hector's saber was closed and back on his belt. As he was moving towards the door to the corridor, Nelino yelled. "Wait!"

"There's no time!" Hector yelled back. "Finly is here and in pain!"

"I know," Nelino reassured his new partner. "But that door is wired."

Hector froze in his tracks. He examined the door and reached out with his senses for any other booby traps or defenses. Nelino pointed to the device near the control panel of the door. "Do you happen to know how to disarm it?" Hector asked.

Nelino stared at the device for a moment. "Done," he stated, then tapped the door controls. The door opened, leaving the two Jedi intact.

Hector thought of Numa. "I have a friend who can do that. Guess I could use some practice."

"That's all it takes," Nelino grinned. "You seem to have a lot of friends. A Jedi should not allow those close to him to cloud his judgement."

Hector was annoyed that Nelino was trying to teach him a lesson, but he had gotten carried away. "Sorry. I thought Finly was dead. To sense him alive…...I just didn't want to waste any time."

The pair had not taken many steps down the corridor when a wave of misery seemed to waft over them. "What is this place?" Nelino asked first.

"It seems Finly is not alone here," Hector choked back the pain that he sensed as it welled within him. He opened the first room that they reached. There were several creatures strapped to various devices. "The Maker…" Hector could not believe his eyes. "Any idea how to unhook these poor beings from these machines?"

"We can try," Nelino was also astonished. "but I'm not sure which ones can survive if we unhook them."

"I'm sure death will be better than whatever this is," Hector admitted.

 **XXXXXXXXXXX**

At the other end of the corridor, Finly had managed to crawl out of his room and to the one next door. Inside the next room he found a young dazed girl strapped to a machine and a baby boy in something like a very sterile crib. "Hello there," Finly imagined how horrid he must look and sound to the children. The girl was nonresponsive and the baby merely slept. Finly crawled to the girl first. With his hands and the Force, he unhooked her from her machines. She rose to her feet, but still no acknowledgement or response.

Finly did not sense that the baby was wired to anything. He gently floated the small one out of the crib and towards the girl. "Can you please hold him while we get out of here?" Finly asked.

The girl did look down at the Jedi this time, then the baby. Without a word, she took the small one in her arms. Still silence, but tears began to roll down her face. "Don't worry," Finly hoarsely whispered. "Follow me." He began to crawl back to the corridor with the children in tow.

They had not made it very far, when Finly saw others approaching. Soon one of the shadows yelled, "Finly!" Hector broke from the others and rushed to his fallen comrade. Ignoring his friend's severe injuries, He lifted Finly from the floor in a heartfelt embrace. "We thought you were dead. I was at your funeral."

"Still here," Finly whispered. "Or what's left of me. I can't walk."

Hector hoisted his friend over his shoulders. "I gotcha, buddy. Let's get out of here."

Finly nodded in Nelino's direction. "Fancy meeting you here." Before the Sentinel could respond, Finly saw the various other creatures that were now in their company. "There was a woman….. a doctor or so she claimed. Did you find her?

"Just these poor souls," Nelino answered. "A ship took off before we came down. She may have been on it."

"Whoever she is, I think she is responsible for all of this," Finly informed as they began their trek back to the hangar. Nelino led with the children, followed by Hector and Finly. The others straggled silently behind them. "There's so many of them," Finly whispered.

"A few of the more coherent ones already took off for the surface. Don't know if they'll wait for us or if they know where they're going."

The group had not made it far, when a massive explosion rocked the entire complex throwing everyone to the ground. Bits of the roof began to crash to the ground. All of the straggling creatures were buried beneath massive rubble. Hector, who tried to grab the ones closest to him, had his leg crushed under a chuck of rock. Nelino shielded the young ones from debris, but it was obvious that the rest of the complex was going to come down very soon. "Hec!" Finly yelled. Without hesitation, he reached out through the Force, slinging the massive rock off of his friend.

Hector crawled over to his friend. "Thanks buddy. Maybe we can Force lift each other out of here." What was left of the ceiling gave way. A massive block fell, nearly crushing the remaining survivors. All three Jedi thrust their arms up catching the mass with the Force before they were all crushed.

"We have to go, now!" Nelino urged.

Finly closed his eyes, and with a surge of power, lifted the ceiling high enough for Nelino to stand. They could all sense the upper structure crashing down on top of the block above them. "Get Hector and go," Finly ordered.

Nelino sighed reluctantly and lifted Hector atop his shoulders. "No!" Hector screamed. "We can hold it together. We'll move slowly."

"There's no time," Finly grunted. "Get the kids and yourselves out of here. I'm ready."

"He's right," Nelino whispered to Hector. "May the Force be with you, brave Finly."

"No!" Hector yelled. "This is not happening."

Finly looked his friend in the eye one last time. "It's OK. The Force is waiting for me. I've already seen it. "It's my time. And you've already been to my funeral."

"No!" Hector screamed. Finly could hear the echo of his screams as Nelino carried him away. Finly held the rubble in place until he was sure they were safe. Then he held it just a few more seconds. He knew that they were safe, but suddenly, he couldn't seem to let go of the rubble. Perhaps he could continue to hold it while he crawled to safety. Finly glanced down the dark corridor. A light seemed to shine at the end. It came closer, or maybe it was growing, he was not sure which. _It's time, Finly. Just let go._ Finly gave up his hope of crawling to safety. He gave up his desire to see his friends again. He gave up his hold on the ceiling above and he gave up his body as the rubble crashed down upon him. And he embraced the light and peace of the Force.

Nelino, Hector, and the children reached the hangar, just seconds before the corridor collapsed behind them. "Finly! Nooooo!" Hector screamed in vain. He continued to yell as Nelino opened the hangar door and carried him out to their camp and vehicles. He set Hector on his sleeping mat. "You left him to die," Hector whispered, exhausted from his yelling.

"We had no choice," Nelino explained. "And it was his choice."

"I had a choice," Hector argued. "I chose to come here to save him."

"And you failed to do that. You did not even know he was alive. It was not the will of the Force, but we did save these children. Maybe they hold the answers to what was going on here," Nelino explained. "Now, your craft will not hold all of us. I have a shuttle not far from here, we can retrieve it and all of us can get off this rock. Do you want to go back to your system or back with us to Coruscant?"

Hector dropped his head back to his mat and became very aware of the throbbing pain in his leg. "Just drop me on Syllian."

 **XXXXXXXXXXX**

Iesha read the report from Nelino and the Council. She wondered if there was more to it that she was not allowed to read or if this was complete. Not that it mattered, what she read was unbelievable. She checked the time, then glanced around the headquarters. Jenaid was watching some simulation on the main screen and Hector was laying on the couch with his injured leg raised. He was fumbling with a piece from Finly's damaged ship. This had been his habit for the last three days. The leg was nearly healed. He needed to stay off of it, but Iesha was concerned that he was staying a little too off of it. The Hector she knew would already be practicing lightsaber forms or cup and water drills. This Hector had barely moved from the couch, not to meditate, not to eat, for nothing. She understood why. She had also been close to Finly. His death, two deaths, were hard on all of them.

"Hey," Iesha rose and approached her comrade. "I need to check-in with Jessie in a bit. Care to join?"

"Nah," Hector passed. "Gotta stay off the leg."

"The report from the Council just came back. I think you should read it," Iesha offered.

"Later," Hector mumbled, focusing on the object he was holding.

Iesha started to turn, but then added. "It's the kids," Iesha began. "The baby is Force-sensitive. It took an intense scan, they found some sort of…. Implant in his brain, like a carbon-base micro-chip or something."

Hector sat up. "What?"

"They removed it and he's fine. It's like someone wanted to remote control a Jedi or something."

Hector pondered the idea. "And the girl?"

Iesha swallowed hard. "She died, shortly after they arrived in Coruscant. It seems…" Iesha hesitated. "It appears that she had been drained of all of her natural blood and been injected with blood from several other beings. All of the blood was rich with midichlorians."

"Midichlorians?" Hector raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Iesha swallowed again. "The Council's best guess is that whoever was behind this wanted to see if they could inject the Force into someone."

"That makes no sense," Hector struggled to find words. "That's not how the Force or midichlorians work."

"We know that because we're Jedi," Iesha explained, "but apparently this person did not or maybe thought…..I don't know what they could have thought."

Hector thought of the other creatures that were killed when the complex exploded and the ones that escaped. What horrors had they been subjected to? Iesha had turned and was preparing for her meeting with Jessie. "Hey wait," he rose to a seated position on the couch. Slowly he stood, putting weight on his leg for the first time in days. It was sore and felt strange, but he knew it was getting better. "I'll join you."


	12. Chapter 12: Gang War Part 1

**Gang War Part 1**

The two guards watched the docks with keen eyes as the crew that they were protecting moved their precious cargo from one ship to another. "I wish they would hurry up." One muttered to the other.

"Hush," the other whispered back. "The air's got ears lately, you know that."

"That's why I want them to hurry so we can get the…what the hell…." His worries were broken by the dark figure who dropped into the middle of the dock workers.

"You boys, must not have heard the rules. No slavers on Draxil," Myriam stated flatly, just before the blue blade of her saber appeared and put an end to the crew's career.

"The Jedi!" the second guard shouted and opened up with his blaster in her direction.

Before the other could pull his, Myriam grabbed him in a Force choke, lifting him slightly off the ground as she deflected the blasts back into the man who fired them. She kept the gurgling guard in her hold as she closed her blade and used the Force to break the locks on the containers. She likewise pulled all of the doors open revealing cowering groups mostly of children in each. The guard floated through the air closer to her. "Children," she muttered coldly. His blaster dropped from his holster to the ground. Myriam reached into his jacket and pulled a wad of credits which she threw to one of the older children along with a communicator from her own pocket as they began to timidly emerge from their boxes. "Take this. Search the bodies for anything of value." She pointed at the communicator. "Any of you who do not want to stay on this planet, meet me at those coordinates and I'll arrange for travel back to your homes or somewhere else that is safe." She then turned back to the guard who was clawing at his own neck, still struggling for breath. She loosened her hold just enough so that he could speak. "Say my name."

"M….Myriam…..the….the….the Jedi," tears began to form in his eyes and he lost control of his bladder at hearing his voice struggle to say her name aloud.

"Good," Myriam grinned. "And your bosses work for Zorba, yes?"

"Y….Ye….Yes…."

Myriam pulled her messenger close to her face so that their eyes met. "This is not the first warning that I have sent. I am beginning to grow impatient with them. Soon, I will be coming for them directly." She threw his body to the ground and he writhed at her feet, gasping for air. "Tell them for me."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXX**

Vespuccio and Tristan clinked their glasses of brandy together across the Boss's desk as they had been doing for years. "I almost forgot, the Hutts are not happy with our pet out there on Draxil."

"Myriam?" Tristan raised an eyebrow, both at the Boss's mention and his referring to her as "our".

"On a first name basis, are you?" Vespuccio raised his eyebrow this time.

Tristan could not hide his grin. "We are acquainted…..not as much as I would like, but still…..you'd understand if you saw her. That's why I sicced her on them. And of course, to get her off of us."

"Smart play," Vespuccio agreed. "But probably won't last much longer. Word is they're about to put quite a price on her head."

"They would be stupid to provoke the Jedi like that," Tristan blew off the idea.

"Maybe," the Boss conceded. "But she's been making some ballsy moves lately. "Why don't you go collect on that? Do us all a favor?"

"I haven't gone after a bounty in years," Tristan pondered the idea. "Especially not one that doesn't even exist yet. Besides she's been an asset to us, why not leave her in play as long as we can?"

"Draxil's getting bad. It's about to be all out war between us and the Sun's. We're gonna want the Hutts with us. Or at least not against us. Think of it as a gesture," Vespuccio reasoned aloud. "And Ocir's good, but he can't handle an all-out war. You'll remind our boys out there who you are and then I'll need you to take point out there for a while, until things die down again."

Tristan did not like the idea, but he had also thought the fighting between their Family and the Suns had been going on for too long. "Bout time, I guess. So, do you want me to sit down with them first or just jump in the thick of it?"

Vespuccio stirred his drink. "We're way beyond talking. Just put 'em down. Hard."

War was messy, but he and Vespuccio were good at it. That's how they achieved their high positions at such young ages. Although he thought the whole thing was avoidable and didn't agree with going all out at this point, he could not deny the thrill that rushed up his spine. "I'll need to pull most of my crew off of our stuff here and from a few other places to do it properly."

"I'll make sure we have you covered. And your boys won't lose a credit. Pull whoever you need, but leave our Jedi here….." the boss seemed to muse aloud.

Tristan raised another eyebrow, "All due respect boss, I'm gonna need him out there."

Vespuccio downed his shot, then set his glass on the desk. "I got something here I need him to handle for me. Besides, he may not take kindly to you taking out an old friend of his. I'll send him along soon enough."

"Something?" Tristan repeated. "Like with Triden?" Tristan leaned in hoping that his words would carry weight without seeming antagonistic.

Vespuccio grinned, "Yes, like with Triden. Is there a problem?"

Tristan studied the boss for a minute, then lifted his hat from his lap and placed it back on his head where it belonged. He pushed it into its proper place with two fingers and stared his friend….. his best friend deep into his eyes. "I got your back."

Vespuccio swallowed hard, but brought out his response without struggle or hesitation. "I know you do. Just like always." He paused and poured himself and his old friend a fresh drink, then lifted his glass. "To the old days."

Tristan likewise lifted his own glass. "To the _good_ old days."

It only took Tristan a couple of days to make his preparations. He sent most of his crew to Draxil ahead of time so that they could get settled and to make it clear to Ocir who would be in charge once he arrived. Vespuccio waited an extra day after Tristan himself left to contact Granger. Granger naturally, responded as quickly as possible. As usual, when he reached the boss's office, Vespuccio was the only one there and sitting in his usual place behind the desk. Unlike Granger's last visit, Vespuccio kept his seat behind the desk. Immediately, Granger knew this meeting was different than the last. Vespuccio was not asking a favor this time. He was the Boss about to give an order to an underling. "Evening Boss," Granger nodded as he entered.

Vespuccio gestured with his hand, indicating for Granger to have a seat. "You did a good job with Triden a while back." Vespuccio began. "And I need your discreet services again."

"I am at your disposal Boss."

Vespuccio grinned. "There is about to be a… restructuring….within our family. This next job will not only set this change into motion, but will secure your place within our organization for the long-term."

A bad feeling crept up Granger's spine. He prepared himself for what he thought he already knew he was about to hear. "Who is it this time, Boss?"

Vespuccio studied Granger for a second before answering. "Tristan." It was difficult to hear the name come out of his own mouth, but he did not become the Boss by taking the easy road.

Granger raised an eyebrow, "You sure, Boss? I mean, I'll do whatever you ask, but I don't see the wisdom in this move….."

Vespuccio leaned forward. "There are things happening that are….above your pay grade. You have sworn your loyalty to me. You told me that you trusted me. Just do what I ask."

"Of course, Boss," Granger reassured. "But don't we need him in the war with the Suns?"

Vespuccio grinned. "Just know that I have the power to call off the war anytime I want."

"So should I make it look like the Suns are responsible? Or the Hutts?" Granger clarified.

"No need," Vespuccio leaned back in his chair. "Just make it happen. And you may want to move soon or an old friend of yours may go down first."

At this Granger was sincerely surprised. "Who?"

"Your Jedi friend on Draxil. Tristan seems to think that taking her out will win the Hutts to our side in the war with the Suns."

"Myriam," Granger frowned. "Wouldn't have thought Tristan would move against her." Then he smirked. "I'm not even sure he's capable of that. Or at least, she's not gonna make it easy for him."

Vespuccio waved a hand. "She's completely irrelevant to me. Just do your job. She can go or stay."

"Very well," Granger rose from his seat. "Anything else, Boss?"

"Just get it done how you see fit. Then report to Ocir when it's finished."

Granger nodded and dismissed himself. He did not even stop by his flat, but went straight to his shuttle. Once in hyperspace, he tried contacting Myriam on the secure channel on which she had reached out to him once before. After a few attempts with no answer, he put a call into Iesha. His padawan's blue image appeared on the consol. "Master," Iesha was surprised. "What can I do for you?"

"Have you spoken with Myriam lately," Granger sounded urgent.

"She made her scheduled report yesterday," Iesha stated, but nothing since. "It seems your friend Tristan is on Draxil…."

"I know," Granger muttered. "That's the problem. Tristan is setting her up."

"I see…. What should we do?" Iesha tried to hide the worry in her voice. Tristan was good and if anyone could take out Myriam, it would be someone like him, but in a straight fight, she knew that Myriam was better than the baddest in the galaxy….. which was also probably Tristan.

"Keep trying to contact her. I'm on my way to Draxil. Once you have reached her. Contact the Council. Things are about to get bad there. Really bad, but it may also provide the break we have been looking for."

"And you will be back?" Iesha sounded hopeful.

"Just get in touch with Myriam. The rest will fall into place," Granger was also hopeful, but wanted to stay focused.

"Very well. May the Force be with you Master. Iesha out."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Hello again, Beautiful," Tristan smiled as he approached Myriam's booth in the corner of the cantina. "Been a while."

"Good evening," Myriam returned the greeting.

Tristan sat across from her. She did not seem to be drinking, which Tristan thought was odd, but he also would not be drinking, at least, not until his job was done. "You don't seem happy to see me."

"You are supposed to be feeding me intel on the Hutts and yet, in the last couple of months, I've been doing all the work, myself," Myriam answered.

Tristan flashed a reassuring smirk. "Sorry about that. I've been a little busy with this war that's brewing."

"And I assume that is why you are here, now? I wonder how many lives will be saved if I just arrest you and take you in?" Myriam moved her hand under the table.

"None," Tristan reassured. "It happens with me or without me. I'm just way smarter than whoever would be running our side in my place. I go, it's a lot bloodier and a lot longer. And yes, this is why I am on Draxil, but I'm here tonight, because I do have info for you. You have the Hutts scrambling. They have a shipment of new workers coming in tonight. I happen to know the dock number…."

"I'll take it and perhaps let you continue a little longer as a free man," Myriam removed her hand from her saber.

"It's near here. I'll even join you. Got no love for slavers, myself," Tristan stated.

Myriam pondered the offer. "No need for that. I kind of enjoy taking these guys out."

"So do I, and it's my intel, I get to decide if I go or not," Tristan's mind was made up.

"Very well," Myriam conceded. "Just try to keep up."

Within minutes, the pair had reached the dock. "Strange," Tristan spoke first. This is the right dock and those are the right cargo numbers, but there's no one here…."

Myriam reached out with her senses. She could sense that something was not right, but she could also sense that there were people in the containers. "No time to waste. There are people in there." She approached slowly, taking in her surroundings as she went. It was odd that not a single dock worker or Hutt underling was around. Her bad feeling grew worse as she approached the three containers.

Suddenly, the doors popped open. Groups of men with blasters drawn emerged from inside of each. Pierre was leading the group from the container in the middle. Myriam's hand naturally went to her saber, but Tristan's hand was immediately on top of it. In his other hand was his blaster, pointed in her direction. "I am truly sorry about this…."

Before any shots could be fired, a stomping sound from on top of all the containers in the area, not just the three in which Tristan's crew had been hiding, interrupted the execution. Ocir emerged from behind his henchmen on top of one of the containers. Myriam, Tristan, and his crew found themselves surrounded by blasters pointed down at them. Ocir caught Tristan's eye and grinned. "Waste 'em all."

Tristan reflexively removed his hand from Myriam's saber, pulling his other blaster all in one motion. Just before the fire erupted, he chanced a glance at Pierre. "It's a trap! Get outta here!"

Chaos overtook the dock. Pierre was not nearly as experienced has some of the other men that were present, but he had never even imagined a scene like what was happening around him. Ocir had nearly thirty men firing down at them. They were surrounded and on the lower ground. There was nowhere to run, yet run was all that they could do, well, run and wildly fire into the air as they moved. Pierre saw bodies hitting the ground all around him as he ran, but had no time to try to identify any of them. He completely lost track of Tristan and Myriam and was clueless as to what was happening. Blaster fire hit the ground all around him, but he managed to wedge himself into a small space between two of the containers. The narrow area slowed him down, but it also gave him cover. He slipped out of the other side and headed towards the main area of the city. He had no idea who he could trust. He thought about contacting Jessie, but shook the idea off. Tristan was the only person that he was sure would deal with him squarely and he had no idea if he was even still alive. He kept running.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Ocir burst into his office followed by his lieutenants. "How did he slip out of there?" Ocir demanded. "Nobody should have made it out of there alive, especially not Tristan." He flicked on the lights and nearly pulled his blaster again at the sight of Granger leaning on his desk.

"We need to talk," Granger stated firmly.

"You work for me, now Jedi. I do the talking." Ocir corrected. "Now go out there and do what the Boss sent you to do."

Granger rose slowly from the desk. He moved purposefully so to appear as big and intimidating as possible. "The Boss told me to report to you _after_ Tristan was dead which I would have done by now if you had not taken it upon yourself… and screwed it up."

"Watch your tone when talking to me, Jedi. I'm the Underboss now. Things will be a little different from now on," Ocir furiously pointed at Granger as he spoke.

"Technically, Tristan is still the Underboss," Granger walked right up to Ocir to look him in the eye. "Again, because you messed things up."

Ocir was about burst into a tirade, when one of the new guys hurriedly entered into the office. "Boss! We got him!"

The crowd filling the office parted as several lower ranking boys, carried in a body. The face was burnt from blaster fire, but everyone recognized Tristan's black hat and trench coat as they dropped the body on the floor.

"Well," Ocir turned back to Granger. "I would say this makes it official. You do work for me now."


	13. Chapter 13: Gang War Part 2

**Gang War Part 2**

 _Ocir was about burst into a tirade, when one of the new guys hurriedly entered the office. "Boss! We got him!"_

 _The crowd filling the office parted as several lower ranking boys, carried in a body. The face was burnt from blaster fire, but everyone recognized Tristan's black hat and trench coat as they dropped the body on the floor._

" _Well," Ocir turned back to Granger. "I would say this makes it official. You do work for me now."_

Granger could barely believe his eyes. A sadness welled within him. He knew that this was only an assignment. He knew that he had a greater duty to his mission, but even still, he felt a kinship with Tristan that moved him deep within. But he did not dare even show the hint of remorse. And more than that, something did not feel right about this. He ignored Ocir's posturing and knelt by the body. He quietly reached into his fallen friend's trademark black trench coat and pulled out one blaster, then another. He held them up so that the gathered crowd could see the cheap, unmatching blasters that this body had in its holsters. "That ain't Tristan," one of the henchman spoke up before anyone else could. Most of the room nodded in agreement.

No matter how much he wished that this was actually Tristan lying in the floor of his office. No matter how much he wished that he could already claim the title of Underboss, Ocir could not dispute the evidence. Most of the galaxy knew Tristan by his hat. The trench coat was a close second, but those who knew Tristan personally, knew that his most cherished possessions were his two platinum-plated side-arms. One of the most feared sights in the galaxy was staring down Tristan as he pulled back the edges of his coat to place his hands on them. And these two cheap things could have been picked up from any back-alley salesman. Of course, Granger was the only one of those present who knew that one of those blasters had been replaced about a year ago after one of them exploded in the Underboss's hand on the first night that he and the Jedi Master met.

Ocir eyed Granger coldly. "Well, then. It looks like you still have a job to do, Jedi."

"I'll get right on it, Boss," Granger did not hide the contempt in his voice as he gave a mock salute and turned for the door.

 **XXXXXXXXXXX**

Pierre entered the backdoor from the alleyway. A hideout for Tristan's inner circle had been prearranged in case anything went wrong. Pierre had stopped there first, only two of those made it out of the set up alive. Most of their crews were gone, but they were rounding up who they could. Tristan always had back up plans and back up plans for the back-ups. That was why Pierre was the only one who knew about this place. "You followed?"

Pierre jumped at the sound of the voice. He recovered quickly and turned to see a hatless and coatless Tristan emerge from the shadows. "I was careful, Boss. I lost track of you on the docks. It's good to see you in one piece." Pierre felt slightly relieved for the first time in several days.

Tristan patted his protégé on the shoulder. "You too." They both sat. Pierre produced a flask from his coat and handed it to his boss. "Best I could find."

Uncharacteristically, Tristan waved off the offer. "Gotta stay focused. Who do we have?"

Pierre gulped. "The only lieutenants left are Orrelle and Suky. Couple of their boys made it. We've heard from a few others, but everybody's layin' low and staying spread out."

"That's good," Tristan stared coldly at the floor. "Put the word out that I'm still around. Round everybody up in a couple of days and I'll give more specific orders then. Everything will come through you." Tristan looked up and the only man he still trusted. He looked Pierre straight in the eye to determine if the kid that he had put so much faith in was up to the task. "Orrelle and Suky won't like that, but convince them that it's for the best. If we do have a traitor in our camp or if someone else decides to sell us out to score points with Ocir, it won't take them long to figure out that you're the one who can lead them to me. Grow eyes in the back of your head. You'll need 'em."

Realizing what a great task lay ahead, Pierre opened the flask and took a swig. "No problem, Boss."

Tristan grinned then turned back to the floor. "Granger made it planet side, yet?"

"Not sure, Boss. I've never been in the dirt like this before. I've only been picking my head up to find our people from the docks."

"Smart. Keep it that way, but he will be coming and he'll know you're easier to find than I am," Tristan continued to council.

"He's…..still with us right?" Pierre sounded hopeful, but thought he already knew the answer.

Tristan stirred his boot into the dirt on the ground. "He'll convince you that he is. He may even convince me, but we should assume…otherwise.

Pierre took another sip from the flask. Tristan studied him before he asked the question that burned in his heart. "Did Myriam make it out?"

Pierre shrugged. "No one's seen her in days. Maybe she's wounded, but I would think that if Ocir got her, he'd be flaunting the fact that he killed a Jedi."

"True," Tristan whispered. "Too bad. I didn't see this comin'. I liked it much better when she was helping us. She'll be after us too." Tristan paused as an overwhelmed look flashed across Pierre's face. "Sorry kid, this is as tough as it gets."

Pierre sighed as he rose from his chair. "Why's this happening?"

"Not sure," Tristan shrugged. "Poodoo just happens sometimes and we have to roll with it."

Pierre paused again when he reached the door. "What are you going to do, Boss?"

Tristan grinned. "I'm about to go hunting."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

There are notorious bounty hunters throughout the galaxy. Some of them are almost as good at tracking people as Tristan. Until he met the Jedi, he never understood why he was so good at finding those that did not want to be found. Now he knew it was the Force. This same Force enabled him to choke a target without touching him, to sling victims through the air without laying a finger on them, to know when a person was lying, sometimes even to see things before they happened. Unfortunately, the Force had not allowed him to sense the trap at the docks. Maybe it was because he was setting his own trap for Myriam or maybe he had gotten comfortable and complacent in his position. Even the most skilled Jedi Master could be caught off guard from time to time and Tristan was definitely no Jedi.

In the week after the ambush on the docks, Pierre rounded up most of the crew. They were mainly a decoy, making a few low priority hits on Ocir's operations. Tristan stayed in the shadows, coming up just long enough to take out one of Ocir's lieutenants. At least one a day of the major players in Ocir's crew was found dead. No matter where they hid or how careful they were, Tristan seemed to know where they would be.

It was still Granger's job, both as an enforcer for Vespuccio and as a Jedi to stop the rogue Underboss, but he always seemed a step behind. The Jedi Master figured Pierre had survived the ambush and was now leading the surviving crew, but Tristan was a ghost. His hope was that Pierre and the others would eventually lead him to the one he sought. A fury had been unleashed on Draxil. The war building between Vespuccio and the Black Sun had already been hard, but now Ocir was being squeezed on all sides. Granger found himself walking down a dark alley as he began to ponder these things. It made no sense. Tristan was Vespuccio's best friend and most valuable asset, why had the Boss turned on him?

"Master," a voice whispered from the shadows interrupting Granger's thoughts.

"Myriam!" the Jedi Master resisted the urge to scoop her up in a hug. He had feared that Tristan had somehow gotten the best of her before the ambush. "Where have you been?"

"On the hunt," Myriam said coldly. "Tristan tried to set me up, but it seems the set up was meant for him. Figured it was best to drop out of sight for a while."

"Good idea. Things are bad," Granger concurred. "Vespuccio sent him here under the pretext of taking you out. He sent me after Tristan. You should thank Ocir for trying to claim the glory for himself."

"Sooooo….. you knew they were after me and didn't warn me…" Myriam was not sure if she was being sarcastic.

"Tristan was already here when Vespuccio called me in. Iesha and I tried to contact you," Granger raised an eyebrow.

"Ah yes," Myriam conceded. "I'm probably behind on a few check-ins."

"Me too," Granger conceded.

"So, do you know about Finly?" Myriam asked.

Granger was not ready for the question. He had lost good friends before, but never someone that he felt responsible for. "Yes, shuttle crash was it? Tragic."

"It seems he survived the crash, only to die soon after to something more sinister," Myriam explained, "but he saved Hector's life and some kid who was being experimented on or something."

"There is no death, there is the Force," Granger reminded himself more than Myriam. "We must remain focused."

Myriam nodded, "So what did Tristan do to Vespuccio?"

Granger sighed. "Not a clue. It's almost like this whole war is just…..pretext."

Myriam pondered the idea. "Like, Tristan would weaken the Suns and maybe they would kill him in the middle of everything?"

"Maybe, but he's always claimed that the Hutts were behind the whole thing….I'm not connecting all the dots. Anyway, finding Tristan is now our priority. He has nowhere else to go," Granger reasoned.

"That's exactly what I've been doing," Myriam nodded. "He's been relentless with Ocir's people. I couldn't catch up with him so I've been trying to get in front of him. Figure out who his next target will be and get there first. No luck so far."

"With you and Tristan on the hunt, Ocir's not going to have much of a crew left. And the Black Sun is still on the prowl. I'd say either way this goes, Vespuccio's days on Draxil has ended…You know, you have the right idea." Without any dismissal, Granger turned and walked to the end of the alley.

"Where are you headed, Master?" Myriam called after him.

"To the source," Granger answered. "Stay on Tristan's tail. And Myriam," Granger turned, "we need him alive. And although he would never admit it, he needs us."

Myriam grinned, "I know Master."

"And be careful," Granger warned. "He will fight like a cornered Loth-wolf. He thinks he has no options left."

Myriam's grin grew wider, "I know Master. May the Force be with you."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Ocir was furious with his lieutenants. "You are supposed to be the smart ones. How is Tristan, much less anyone in his crew still able to operate anywhere on this planet?"

All of them averted their eyes, but finally somebody had to speak up. "The crew is in the dirt, Boss. And Tristan's like a ghost. We got the best of him once. It's not gonna be easy to do it again. And the Suns….."

Ocir was about to launch into another furious tirade when they all turned towards the door. A commotion outside interrupted their discussion. Instead of opening, the door seemed to rip itself from its frame. Granger stepped through and directed his attention to those sitting around Ocir's desk. "All of you, out."

"What the hell are….." As Granger calmly raised a hand, Ocir's words were cut off. He began to grasp for the invisible hands around his neck and fell back into his chair. The lieutenants jumped to their feet. Some of them exchanged glances. Some put their hands to their blasters.

Granger's stare landed on each of them for just a moment. He put his other hand on his lightsaber. "I said, 'out'." They rushed to obey.

Granger lowered his hand and Ocir collapsed to the desk, gasping for air. "Tell me what I want to know," Granger growled more than spoke.

"What do you mean?" Ocir spoke slowly as he recovered his breath.

Granger stared intently at his prey. "Why did you set up Tristan on the docks."

"He told me his plan to get the Jedi. I thought we could kill two gundarks with one blaster." Ocir returned Granger's stare.

"Why is the Boss after Tristan?" Granger continued.

"That's not your concern…"

Ocir felt his neck tighten again. "Why?" was all that Granger asked.

When the invisible grip loosened enough that he could speak, Ocir replied, "It's about reputation, Jedi. I'm not sure you would get it."

"Try me."

Ocir swallowed hard. "Vespuccio's the Boss. He and Tristan have been a team for as long as anybody can remember. Ever since they began to move up the chain, Tristan has done all the heavy lifting and become one of the most feared men in the galaxy. The Boss doesn't want to see someone else stealing his glory."

Granger pondered the words. "That doesn't make sense. Tristan's loyal. Everything he does, he does for the Boss."

"I told you, you wouldn't get it," Ocir reminded Granger with a cold stare.

"Before he sent me after Tristan, the Boss said that he had the power to call off the war with the Suns anytime he wanted. What did he mean by that?"

"That's above your pay grade," Ocir answered. Granger's hand began to rise again. Ocir rubbed his neck. "Fine," the would-be Underboss consented. "I made a deal with one of Jabba's people to pull a job on the Suns and make it look like we did it. That way the Suns would be on us. When Tristan was out of the way, we would 'discover' the ruse and take it to the Suns, then they and the Hutts would be at each other and we could build here on Draxil while they were distracted."

Granger pondered the plan. It made sense in a twisted sort of way. He dropped a com-link on Ocir's desk. "Call him."

"Who?" Ocir played dumb.

Granger sighed. "Your Hutt friend. Tell him to meet you here. And don't try anything funny."

 **XXXXXXXXXXX**

Tristan crept quietly into the nearly empty room. Only the person that he was here to see was sitting at a table with his chair turned towards the window. Hadran was one of Ocir's top men. It would not be long, before Tristan went after the big man himself. Just a few more stops to make. "Hadran," Tristan commanded. He cleared his throat, "Hadran," the second attempt likewise failed to get his prey's attention. "Hadran?" Tristan whispered approaching the table. He spun the chair around to face a lifeless body as it slumped to its side.

Tristan barely had time to examine the wound in Hadran's chest. A blaster at point-blank range could make such a wound, but most likely, it was caused by a much different weapon. "Good evening, 'friend'," the familiar female voice called from behind.

Tristan turned slowly. "Please don't make me do this."

Myriam could hear the honesty in his plea as he moved his hands onto the hilts of his blasters. She likewise, placed her hand on her lightsaber. "You already tried to kill me once this week. How'd that work out for you?"

"I…." he tried to think of a valid excuse. Instead, his eyes dropped to the floor. "I'm sorry. I was wrong."

"So it would seem," Myriam was undeterred.

"I have to finish this," Tristan raised his eyes back to hers. "Please do not stand in my way."

"I don't see anywhere else to stand," Myriam replied.

"So be it." This week's events had shaken the hardened gangster more than even he realized. He knew that he had to act, but for the first time, in a very long time, everything within him screamed for him not to fight. He hands twitched, but instead of drawing his blasters, his hands shot forward, sending a series of Force pushes and the various objects scattered around Hadran's table at the Jedi.

Expecting a barrage of blaster fire, Myriam impulsively pulled her lightsaber. "Poodoo," she muttered, noticing her mistake immediately. She likewise stuck her hand up, sending some of the various sharp and blunt objects back at Tristan and some to the ground as she dove behind a nearby couch. Similarly, Tristan ducked behind the desk as the returning objects shattered the window behind him. He then sent a larger barrage of the table itself, the chair, and even Hadran's body hurtling in Myriam's direction. She sent them all back at him, even more forcefully than he had, followed by the couch.

Then the dance began. Both foes ran, flipped, and dove around the room sending the scattered objects in the other's direction. This went on for several minutes until a brief pause when all of the potential projectiles appeared to no longer useful. They combatants briefly caught the other's eye and as if thinking in harmony began to send blasts through the Force at each other as they also dodged the coming blasts. They ducked and dodged around the room for several more minutes until they both popped up close enough to try a powerful Force Push. Theirs caught each other on opposite ends and their hands twisted around as each attempted to send the power back into the other. Tristan grit his teeth as he strained to not only push back against Myriam's push, but to send his own into her. Myriam grinned slightly, she was holding back and she knew that Tristan knew this. Part of her wanted to get angry about how he had seemed to betray her, but the best way she could return the favor would be to bring Tristan to Coruscant, relatively unharmed.

She caught his eye as she grinned at his growing fatigue. Tristan felt it coming, but there was nothing he could do to prevent it or get out of the way. Myriam closed her eyes and with a fresh surge of power, sent her opponent backwards into the opposite wall. Tristan tried to jump back to his feet, but as far as he could get was his knees. He groggily hoped that he would not have to feel another of those…whatever it was, but that meant more lethal force. He reached down for his blasters, but they were missing. When his vision cleared, he saw both of his blasters floating in front of his face pointed in his direction. "Do it," Tristan muttered.

Myriam was not ready for the comment. It just briefly melted her determination. "Don't talk like that. You know that's not what I want."

Tristan eyed her carefully. "I'm not going to jail. And I won't snitch."

"I know," Myriam whispered.

"Then you have no choice," Tristan seemed to spit more than speak.

"You have options…." Myriam tried to reason.

"Options? My best friend wants to kill me. I can't return to my home planet. Everything that I have spent my life building has turned on me. What are my options?" He asked angrily.

"We can help you. Come with us," Myriam's voice oozed with a sincerity that was from more than just a Jedi seeking justice. "I'm sure a man of your talents could serve the Republic in many ways."

Tristan shook his head with a chuckle, "Not my style."

Myriam knew that she could easily knock him unconscious and that by the time he woke up, he would be in restraints and on her ship inbound to Coruscant, yet, she still hesitated. Before she could make up her mind, her comm-link sounded. "Myriam," she answered.

"I have Ocir," Granger's voice returned. "Any luck with Tristan?"

"I wouldn't call it luck, but I have him," she responded. She could see and sense Tristan's despair grow even more as he heard the Jedi Master's voice. It occurred to him that he had now lost more than one trusted friend.

"Great. I also have someone that he needs to hear. Bring him to Ocir's office," the voice continued. Then added, "He is alive, right?"

"Of course, Master," Myriam grinned.

She placed the com link next to her lightsaber. "Shall we be off then?"

"So Granger's still one of you?" Tristan raised his eyes.

"Surprised?" was all that Myriam offered.

Tristan pondered the inquiry. "Not sure, really. What's he up to?"

"We're about to find out."

When they reached Ocir's office, Tristan was in restraints followed closely by Myriam. When they entered the damaged door way, Granger was seated behind the desk, seated across from a man that Tristan recognized as one of the Hutts' representatives on Draxil. "What's going on here?" Tristan demanded.

"Explain," Granger commanded the Hutt lieutenant.

The prisoner swallowed hard. "Ocir paid me to start a beef with the Suns and make it look like your Family was responsible."

"Why?" Tristan mumbled eyeing the man. When he only shrugged, he turned to Granger.

Granger cleared his throat. "It seems the plan was for you to die while battling the Black Sun, then Ocir would uncover the deception, turning the Suns on the Hutts. And he would become the new Underboss."

"And the Boss went along with it?" Tristan clarified.

"As I understand it, it was his plan," Granger delivered the final blow.

Tristan wanted to ask why, but he already understood the answer. He had known since the Boss first called Granger to perform that first task without his consent. A rage like he had never experienced welled with in him. Tristan snapped the restraints and threw a hand up to Force choke the Hutt.

Granger calmly raised a hand, relieving some of the pressure on the captive's neck, but Tristan was determined and his choke hold grew all the more stronger. "We need him alive," Granger reasoned. "You need him alive." But Tristan continued to try to unleash all of his rage on his victim. Granger raised another hand. Tristan felt his own neck tighten. He did not care. Two people would die in this office today.

Myriam likewise raised a hand attempting to alleviate the pressure around the Hutt agent's neck. "Tristan this is pointless. He will end the war. Let us help you."

But Tristan was unrelenting. He would not be taken captive. He was an outlaw. He would die before he gave up and went to prison and he would do as much damage to Vespuccio as he could on the way out. "Tristan!" Myriam screamed. The Underboss collapsed to his knees, still tightening his grip on his victim. With no other option, Myriam placed a hand on his head. Tristan collapsed into unconsciousness and the Hutt agent slid from his chair gasping for breath.

A couple of hours later, the world returned to Tristan. He was not surprised to be in restraints, but he was surprised to still be in Ocir's office instead of the hold of a ship. Granger and Myriam were both leaning against the desk, but the other man was gone. "Where's our new friend?" Tristan asked groggily.

"I took him to the Suns to explain himself. Now he and Ocir are on their way to Coruscant to stand trial," Granger explained.

"Why am I not with them?" Tristan asked.

Myriam and Granger exchanged a glance, then she explained. "For Master Granger to complete his assignment, he needed to bring in the Boss and/or the Underboss. Technically, Ocir is now the Underboss."

Granger continued, "So all I have left to do is return to Markuria and arrest Vespuccio or take him out should he resist." Granger paused to let his words sink in. "Or someone else could do it for me." He eyed Tristan carefully. "If such a person was willing to serve as a well-placed source of information in the future."

"So I would be your new Zeakwon?" Tristan nearly spit the words out. He studied the two Jedi as the surprise seemed to land as he intended. "What? You thought I didn't know?"

Granger couldn't help, but smile, "Something like that. Under the right conditions."

"Such as?" Tristan muttered.

Myriam spoke up again. "Your Family is done on Draxil, forever."

"And in other parts of the galaxy, your activities will be as….. nonviolent as possible. And you will feed us information on the other organizations as I need it," Granger added.

"And no trafficking of any lifeforms in any way," Myriam concluded.

Tristan swallowed as he pondered his options. He could be the new Boss or he could rot in a cell while the Jedi rounded up the Boss and what was left of his Family. His Family? They had turned their backs on him. And although Granger had been lying all along, he still knew that he could trust the Jedi. The only real question was would he sell out completely or use his new allies to his own advantage. "OK, Tristan conceded, but it has to work both ways. If you hear of someone moving against us, you have to let me know as well."

Granger mulled the idea. He knew he would never control Tristan as fully as Zeakwon. "That's fair."

"And," Tristan added, "Pierre and the rest of my crew come with me. And you put Zeakwon back in place on Syllian."

"You are in no position to be making demands," Myriam began to clarify, but Granger shot her a warning look.

"This will only work as a partnership," Tristan now explained. "You both know, I won't sell out and you both know I'll be a worthy partner."

Granger nodded slightly, "Very well. I am not certain that I have the power to free Zeakwon, but I will do my best, but if he does return to Syllian, nothing can happen to him. He comes back just like he never left."

Tristan landed a cold stare on the Jedi Master, but quickly realized this was the best that he would get. "That's fair."

Granger waved a hand and the restraints fell from Tristan's hands. "Then it is settled." Granger rose from the desk and extended a hand. "Partners?"

Tristan rose slowly from his seat and took the Jedi's hand. "Partners."

Myriam placed her hand on both of theirs. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this? Let's have a drink."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

It was dark when Vespuccio entered his office. The lights came on without his command revealing Tristan's trench coat spread across his desk with the hat placed on top of it. The chair behind his desk spun around revealing Tristan behind it. "Evening, 'friend'."

Vespuccio swallowed nervously, "You made it. I feared the worse…." his words were cut off by an invisible grip around his neck.

Tristan rose and rounded the desk to look the Boss in the eye. "I loved you like a brother. I never would have betrayed you."

Vespuccio could not respond. He wrapped his own hands around his neck as he dropped to his knees. "Bring them in," Tristan commanded.

Vespuccio's captains followed by Ocir's remaining men followed by Pierre and the remains of Tristan's crew with blasters drawn soon filled the office. They watched in horror as the gasping Vespuccio slumped to the ground and went still. Tristan placed his hat back on his head then picked up his coat, slowly placing each arm in its sleeve and pulling it around his shoulders. "Our Family will be going through some restructuring at the highest levels. Anyone have any objections?"

There were none.

 _Coming Soon: Jedi Posse 3_


End file.
